


Bad Luck, Black Cat

by DorthyAnn (JenniferMarie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Cats, Creature Fic, Fluff, Kneazles, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Hogwarts, Swearing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 65,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8518609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferMarie/pseuds/DorthyAnn
Summary: Harry Potter is twenty years old, having a shit life and could use a break. So when someone puts an enchanted necklace on him that turns him into a cat, well, he's pretty ok with it. And when Draco Malfoy is the first person to take an interest in the scruffy little black cat and wants to take him home, well, he's pretty ok with that too.All in all, being a cat is pretty nice.





	1. Chapter 1

  


Harry Potter was twenty years old. He couldn't walk into a wizardry area without getting mobbed. He still had trouble sleeping and had anxiety attacks, he lived alone and sometimes wished he could just sleep forever. He had finished Auror training but he was only sent on missions on the continent at first, because his fame ruined everything, and then when his fame had ruined even that, blowing his cover for the third time, he had been put on permanent desk duty. 

He secretly liked desk duty and couldn't tell anyone because you weren't supposed to like desk duty and simple paper-work that was easy and monotonous and helped _but_ , and this was important, didn't have anyone trying to kill him. It was really bloody nice not having anyone trying to kill him. But Ron protested on his behalf and half the other Aurors protested on his behalf and Kingsley was starting to waver and it was giving Harry anxiety attacks again that chewed at his stomach and made his chest hurt when he breathed. 

Harry Potter was twenty years old and hated everything about his life.

So when everything went tits up, he wasn't really all that fussed to try and fix it.

He had been trying to slip to an apothecary, he just needed to stock up on a few simple potions and then he would bugger off and go home where he could be alone and sleep through the weekend. He ducked his head and tried to disappear into his shoulders, wishing he had remembered his invisibility cloak, but someone spotted him and whoever the fucker was had _shouted_ his name and then he was surrounded by the mob. Hands shaking his, in sweaty palm after sweaty palm. He felt his shoulders squeezed, his back smacked in a faux show of non-existent comradery and the voices, running into one another like a wall of noise that left only his name, _Harry Potter! HarryPotterHarryHarryPOTTERHarry!!!_ until his head rang. He considered apparition but the risk of someone clinging on, side-alonging or splinching themselves, was too great. 

He didn't know where the hands that touched his neck had come from. He felt the touch of metal on his neck for only a second before the world shot above his head and he felt the sudden and horrendous sensation of being squeezed down into something too small like an overstuffed suitcase. He didn't know what was happening, but the panic that had been slowly growing overwhelmed him and he bolted on pure adrenaline and fear. 

When he stopped, pressed against the bottom of a brick building, hidden behind a barrel filled with blooming flowers, he was far, far down the street from where he had been. He looked down at small black paws instead of hands and blinked in surprise. He sat down and looked over his shoulder and down at a black body, curling tail.

He was a cat.

Well.

Not too bad really.

There was a lot of yelling back down the street where he had been but no one was coming after him so maybe they hadn't seen him turn into a cat, maybe all anyone saw was him disappear. He couldn't remember if he had changed with his clothes, it would be awfully awkward if he changed back without them.

Harry felt something strange and heavy around his neck and reached a paw up to feel some sort of metal there but even as he pawed at it, he felt it disappear, sinking into his fur, the weight of it completely gone. He trotted down the street, keeping close to the buildings until he found a store front with a large window and jumped onto the sill to look at his reflection. Whatever the necklace or collar or chain had been around his neck, it was gone now.

His tail thrashed uneasily but the feeling quickly passed.

Harry looked at himself more closely. He was a small, short-hair black cat, with a little white blotch over one eye, on one paw and in a larger starburst on his chest, marking out his curse scars. Luckily they were all just indistinct dollops. There were a smattering of single white hairs all across his face and back, reflecting his grey hairs that had started to crop up after the war. He always spelled them away to keep anyone- anyone being Hermione- from worrying. His tail was long but kinked in a few places like it had been broken and not healed straight. He looked like a better class of alley cat. 

He did resent that he was so small. He might have been small when he was young but he had grown to be a quite respectable height. His cat-ness had apparently not taken this into account. 

Harry jumped back down on the ground and headed further up the street, his tail up and swishing back and forth in lazy interest.

He approached a few people in mild curiosity and was mostly ignored, except for one bloody rude bloke who tried to kick him. He had the general idea that if he wasn't going to get this cat thing fixed, and he really didn't care to, he would need someone to take care of him, unless he was going to hunt things and he was really _not_ going to hunt things. Cat or no, he preferred his food cooked and not wriggling.

Across the street he noticed a pair of white blond heads going into Gringotts and Harry's ears swung forward with interest. Lucius and Draco Malfoy, out and about in wizarding London. He had heard rumors that the elder Malfoy's house arrest had finished and he had been seen trying to rebuild some of the vast Malfoy fortunes he had expended after the war trying to placate the masses.

Harry crossed the street and skulked around the stairs waiting for them to come back out. Stalking Malfoys. It felt a bit like sixth year all over again, very nostalgic. He sat and watched the doors, a bit out of the way. When the blond pair emerged, both wearing black formal robes, along with a three other wizards in equally stiff formal robes Harry stood up in interest. All of them ignored him, except Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy noticed him immediately, half smirked and shook his head in amusement.

Harry's tail twitched and he followed the blond a few steps behind.

The group went to one of the posher cafes and sat at one of the outside tables. A fancy tea service was ordered and before the server had even turned away briefcases and satchels were up on the table and stacks of parchment were being pulled out along with quills that quickly swamped the table in the most boring business talk Harry could have ever imagined. Investing in the production of newt eyes of all things.

Malfoy was pretending he was listening but his chair was pushed back from the table and his gaze kept drifting towards the street. Harry watched as he tapped his fingers on his leg under the table in an impatient rhythm. 

Curious, Harry slowly walked up to him. 

Malfoy's piercing slate-grey gaze flick down at his approach and Harry froze.

Then, quite shockingly, in Harry's limited experience, Malfoy smiled. He dropped his tapping hand from his leg and held it out to Harry, beckoning with a twitch with his fingers.

Harry came up slowly and Malfoy let him sniff his fingers, which smelled surprisingly earthy and sweet, before reaching out to try and stroke Harry's cheek.

It was a strange sensation, but very nice, and Harry took a half-step closer, pressing his face into the touch with relish.

When Harry looked up Malfoy's smile had grown and he twisted his hand to scratch Harry's upturned chin. Harry closed his eyes and try to twist further into the scratch, sliding his cheek and chin along Malfoy's fingers in a way that should have been embarrassing _buuuut_ he was a _cat_ and didn't _care_. He might be a cat for weeks or months, maybe forever, who knew. Being a cat was rather nice and Harry felt refreshingly free of any fucks to give whatsoever.

Lucius cleared his throat rather pointedly and Malfoy's head turned back to the table where his father glared at him before resuming his business talks without missing a beat.

Malfoy sighed and reluctantly turned back to the table. Harry's tail thrashed back and forth in annoyance.

The tea service arrived and everyone was distracted with moving papers out of the way so Harry decided to be a bit bold and jumped onto Malfoy's lap. The blond startled but didn't push him off which seemed like invitation enough for Harry so he stayed low so he wouldn't be spotted by the tables other occupants and laid on Malfoy's thighs. It was a bit uncomfortable, the scrawny git was too lean and hard, but it was warm and as soon as Harry had settled Malfoy's hand resumed petting him.

Harry closed his eyes and just enjoyed the long thin fingers as they scratched his chin and cheeks, stroking down his back and digging in to scratch along his spine. Harry's eyes opened briefly when he felt a faint rumble start up in his chest but relaxed again when he realized he was just purring. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so relaxed and content. 

Harry must have dozed off because next thing he knew, Malfoy's hands carefully circled around his chest, lifting Harry off his legs and lowering him onto the ground.

Harry's ears went back and his tail thrashed. Malfoy didn't notice. Harry resisted the urge to bite him on the ankle, he still wanted more attention after all, but it was a near thing.

Malfoy stood, nodding and shaking hands along with his father until the other wizards with their briefcases left.

Lucius looked satisfied.

Malfoy just looked tired.

“I hope you were paying attention, Draco.” Lucius said sharply with an expression that said he knew Malfoy hadn't been.

“Of course, Father.” Malfoy said with the familiar icy aristocracy Harry had heard throughout school.

Lucius turned on his heel and walked away with the absolute certainty that his son would follow- he did- saying, “Investments like these are how the Malfoy family built its fortune and name and you must learn, Draco. The time for being a foolish child is past-” he sneered acidly, “- _long past_.” 

Harry followed a few steps behind Malfoy, watching how his shoulders twitched with the reprimand before he straightened.

They headed to the apparition zone and Lucius disappeared in a sharp crack as soon as he was clear to do so.

Malfoy paused and let his shoulder slump slightly.

Harry's tail twitched and in a sudden burst of impulsiveness, his opened his mouth and let out a plaintive meow.

Malfoy spun on his heel and his face softened. He dropped down on his heels and reached out without hesitation.

Harry trotted up to him and butted his head into Malfoy's hand.

“Scruffy little thing with your black fur and green eyes.” Malfoy said with amusement.

Harry meowed again, short and annoyed.

He obligingly scratched Harry's chin, “You seem too small to be half-kneazle but far too clever not to be.” He was smiling faintly. “...A runt maybe?”

Harry pushed his head under Malfoy's hand so that it skimmed along his neck and back.

“My father would have kittens if I brought you home.” He said quietly, smirking at his own joke.

Harry blinked. It hadn't occurred to him that he might somehow be picked up by Malfoy but, even as he thought it, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. He wouldn't be bored at least. Malfoy had always been interesting to Harry.

He looked up at Malfoy hopefully, and in case that wasn't enough, placed his front feet on Malfoy's knee and stood on his hind feet so they were face to face, making a tiny little meow that made Malfoy's smile grow.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, one that looked considering and just a little sneaky, “I've never had a pet before.” he mused.

Harry's ears twitched forward.

“Hmmm...” Malfoy nodded to himself and stood, dropping Harry back onto the ground but before he could complain, hands slipped around him and picked him up, pressing him to Malfoy's chest.

Harry held very still as Malfoy stepped into the apparition zone, gripping his claws into the fabric of Malfoy's robe, but careful not to go any deeper, even as a little hint of panic surged through him. He _hated_ side-along apparition. Malfoy held Harry tight to his shoulder and with a faint snap they disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sniffed the air with interest. He felt like he had forgotten what fresh air smelled like, wonderful mostly.

Malfoy's grip on Harry's back loosened and Harry pulled himself a little higher on his shoulder, looking around with interest.

They were outside the Malfoy Manor, black, wrought iron gate melting away as Malfoy approached. Harry felt the wards prickle across his skin and bristled slightly.

“Definitely half-kneazle,” Malfoy said with a cheeky half-smile.

The manor was the same building as Harry remembered from the war, but everything else about it seemed different. The grounds were lush and well cared for, flowers grew everywhere in carefully maintain beds and white peacocks walked sedately across perfectly manicured lawns. The building itself looked as if it had been scrubbed and brightened, the stones were lighter and cleaner, almost shining in the bright afternoon sun. It was a very beautiful place. Harry could see why Malfoy had stayed here.

Waiting inside the huge foyer was a house elf wearing a clean, crisp, flower and paisley pillowcase with yellow socks fashioned out of hand-knit tea cozies.

Malfoy asked, “Has my father returned, Mipsy?”

“Yes, Master has gone to his study!” Mipsy squeaked with an enthusiastic smile.

“Good.” Malfoy said, losing some of his tension, “Good.” He headed down the long hallway, his treads deadened by the lush deep green carpet running down the length. All along the walls were massive moving portraits full of prickly blond Malfoys past and passed and beautiful ancient tapestries.

Harry wriggled impatiently. 

“I'll let you down soon.” Malfoy said, petting Harry's back absently.

Up a curling staircase and down another long hallway; they eventually came to a large door, that looked like any other, except that it lead into Malfoy's bedroom. Harry was quite certain about it being his because it smelled just like him.

Once the door was securely shut he lowered Harry onto the floor. The room was brightly lit by a wall of narrow floor to ceiling windows, rounded at the peaks, their edges muted by gauzy white curtains. The walls were painted a pale green and the carpets were impossibly white. There was a massive wardrobe built into one wall and a desk made of dark wood against the window. A small seating area with a small couch and two high-backed chairs ringed the fireplace. Malfoy's bed was massive, covered in a plush, pale-grey bedspread. It was a beautiful room and a bit strange, though he wasn't sure why.

Harry moved cautiously, sniffing as he went, picking up all sorts of little things, the smell of roses, of Malfoy's hair potion, soap, and a rich smell of soil. The delicate smell of Malfoy, his sweat and skin, overlaid all the other scents like a blanket.

“What shall I call you?” Malfoy asked, walking around to watch what Harry was doing. 

Harry ignored him. He was certain the name would be awful no matter what.

“Certainly not something pedantic.” 

Harry sighed internally, leaning down briefly to look under the bed before moving on.

Draco was grinning, “And yet, it should be clever or at least amusing.”

Harry walked along the windows and looking out into the massive gardens. The gauzy curtains moved easily as he brushed past them and he resisted the urge to flip around and attack the living piss out of them for fun.

“Father would likely not appreciate any sort of clever wordplay.” Malfoy went over to the large desk, pulling out the chair and sitting down, “But that doesn't mean it can't be amusing to me...” he mused and then smirked Draco smirked, “James. Your name shall be James. A wonderfully inappropriate name for a cat.”

Harry turned and looked at Malfoy, wishing his could raise an eyebrow even though he wasn't very good at it when he had eyebrows. He supposed he'd get used to it eventually, besides since when did cats respond to their names? He certainly didn't intend to.

Harry explored the massive room while Malfoy stripped off his dour black dress robes and changed into casual robes, although still meticulously tailored, in a pale blue color. He was still buttoning them when Mipsy appeared with a crack.

“Mistress says to be joining her in the blue sitting room.” Mipsy said.

“I'll be right there.” Malfoy nodded, “And Mipsy?”

Mipsy straightened to attention, “Yes, Young Master?”

Malfoy nodded to Harry, “Please see that my room is outfitted to accommodate my cat.”

“Right away!” Mipsy said and disappirated.

Malfoy nodded with satisfaction, straightening his cuffs, and went to the door.

Having no interest in being left behind, Harry followed, but Malfoy was too quick to slip out the door and pull it shut before Harry could escape.

Harry meowed as loudly and mournfully as he could, this did not produce immediate results so he did it a few more times. No footsteps came back to let him out or, more importantly, to apologize for leaving him behind like an ass.

Harry stared up and the door and his tail curled. He hadn't heard a locking spell and the doorknob was one of those long lever types. He dropped to his haunches, wiggling slightly, and then jumped, paws skittering over the metal and losing purchase so that he fell back to the carpet. He tried again, the third time he hung on for a bit, even managing to feel the knob start to pull down before he slid off. He felt encouraged and stubbornly determined. Harry took a moment to lick his paws until they were a bit damp and jumped again, his paw pads clung on better and Harry held, flailing slightly, as the knob turned down with a click and swung open slightly.

He dropped back onto the carpet, hurrying to the crack in the door and pressing his nose to it and until it slid open and he was able to wiggle through the gap. Harry paused out in the long hallway and sniffed the air, his ears swiveling in search of voices. He caught a trace of Malfoy's scent and followed it optimistically, slinking along the walls as he walked, looking around warily as he went and listening. The last thing he wanted was to be discovered by Lucius and be hexed on sight.

Harry perked up when he heard a soft woman's tone in the distance and as he got closer he could make out the deeper tones of Malfoy. Luckily, the door to the room was open. The blue sitting room was indeed, mostly decorated in blues. It was on the same side of the house as Malfoy's room and sported the same tall windows but with a pair of double doors in the center and a small terrace. The blue cushioned chairs and a small loveseat had been arranged around the open terrace so the occupants could enjoy the light and warmth from the summer sun without actually sitting in it. 

“I am pleased the business trip went well, Draco. I know you are not... enthusiastic about them.” Narcissa said.

“I am still learning.” Malfoy said diplomatically.

Harry walked up behind the small loveseat, spotting Malfoy's legs from underneath. Sitting beside Malfoy in a cushioned chair that seemed to fancy to comfortable was Narcissa Malfoy, dressed regally in dark blue silk robes, her hair smooth and perfectly pinned back from her face, more yellow-blond than white like her husband and son's.

“As you know, the renovations on the east wing are complete,” She ventured hesitantly, “Lucius has been talking about moving back into our old rooms...”

Malfoy went very still, “The room I've been staying in is quite adequate.” he said stiffly.

Narcissa nodded slightly, her face as still and mask-like as Harry imagined Malfoy's to be at that moment. “It is one of our nicest guest rooms. Your old rooms will always be available if you should change your mind.”

“Of course.”

They settled into seats and sipped their tea, cups clinking faintly on saucers as several minutes passed in silence.

Narcissa stared down into her cup. Finally, she broke the silence, “Draco,” her voice was soft and strangely gentle, “I just want you to know-”

Malfoy tried to protest, “Mother. You don't-”

She went on a little more forcefully, “I just want you to be happy, Draco. I know Lucius has his plans but if you want to do something else with your life, anything at all, I shall support you. You don't have to give up everything for your father's ideals.”

Draco's voice softened, “...Thank you, Mother, but I want to do what I can to rebuild the family name.”

Narcissa sighed and pressed her lips together into a thin line, her brows drawing together just slightly, in an unexpected display of emotion on her normally impassive face.

Uncomfortable, Draco leaned forward and refilled his cup. 

Harry took the opportunity to jump onto the loveseat beside him, laying down and tucking his feet under his body. He stared out at the rolling green countryside and perfect blue sky only turning his head when he heard the clatter of china.

Narcissa was staring at him, blinking as if she wasn't certain he was real.

Malfoy followed her gaze and jumped slightly, “I thought I left you in my rooms,” He said accusingly.

Harry glared up at him, flattening his ears slightly and making a sharp _meh_ noise that he hoped conveyed both his annoyance and a certain promise that if Malfoy tried to leave him behind again he would get a bitten ankle for his trouble.

“Draco?” Narcissa asked, “Where did this cat come from?”

Malfoy hesitated, looking slightly embarrassed, “...He was sitting outside Gringotts and followed me from there to the cafe and all the way to the apparition point.”

“The little creature followed you home so you decided to keep him?” there was a note of amusement in her voice. 

“He's very intelligent,” Malfoy said defensively, “I think he's half kneazle.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Is that so? He seems small for a half-breed.”

Malfoy said, “I'm fairly certain, especially considering I left him in my room behind a securely closed door.”

Harry repeated his _meh_ noise. 

Narcissa stared at him while Malfoy watched his mother with some trepidation.

After a moment's pause, she sat her tea down and shifted forward onto the edge of her chair, offering her hand down near the floor for Harry.

Deciding he needed all the allies he could get, Harry slowly jumped off the couch and walked up to her, stepping close enough for Narcissa to pet his head.

Her touch was very tentative, she pet him with just the tips of her fingers, so light it was almost irritating. Harry preferred Malfoy's certain pressing touch and insistent scratches but he stayed still and tolerated it.

“He's so soft.” Narcissa said softly, almost in awe.

Malfoy seemed pleased, “It's quite remarkable, isn't it? He looks so scruffy but his fur is as soft as cashmere.”

She touched him with more certainty, running her whole palm along his back. When Harry looked up he could see that she was smiling faintly. This close he could see the fine lines of her face, kept faint by spells and potions but still there and reflecting a life of stress and worry.

“I had a kitten when I was young,” Narcissa said softly, a sad look in her eyes, “Bella killed the poor sweet thing and I never dared to get another pet after that.”

Harry looked over at Malfoy, he seemed distant and stiff. He put his teacup down with great care but it chimed faintly against the saucer from his shaking hand.

“Have you chosen a name for him?” Narcissa asked.

“James.”

Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth, hiding a smile even as the corners of her eyes crinkled in delight, “What a lovely name, Draco.”

He nodded gravely in agreement. Harry could tell he was secretly pleased someone had understood his weird sense of humor.

Harry jumped back onto the loveseat, laying beside Malfoy who dutifully reached down and scratched him.

“Father won't be pleased.” Malfoy said with only the slightest touch of worry.

Narcissa shook her head, “You're father's opinion does not matter. A pet is a wonderful thing and if he tries to make a fuss I _will_ speak with him.”

Malfoy smiled slightly, “Thank you, Mother.”

The conversation drifted things Harry couldn't be bothered to focus on, parties, ministry politics and family rivalries. He slept.

The snap of a house elf apparition pulled Harry's eyes open.

“Yes, Kass?” Narcissa asked.

The young looking house elf wearing a lovely mint green pillow case bowed, “ Master requests Young Master to his study.”

Malfoy jaw tightening. 

“Master has the ledgers out,” Kass added.

“Oh dear,” Narcissa sighed. “Don't let him keep you all night, Draco.”

Malfoy rose slowly to his feet. 

Harry stood too, watching Malfoy with the express purpose of not being left behind.

Malfoy stared at him and asked Narcissa, “Mother, would you watch James while I'm gone?”

“Of course.”

Before Harry could react he was easily picked up with one hand and set on Narcissa's lap, her hands circling him and gently holding him against her robes. 

Malfoy left, his foot tread fading down the hallway.

He waited until her grip loosened and wiggled free, jumping down onto the floor.

Narcissa pulled her wand out to stop him from running off but Harry stayed put, sitting on the floor just out of reach and watching her. She slowly lowered her wand, “Be good, little one.”

Harry considered his options, on one hand, doing what he was told was boring. On the other hand, disobeying and being locked in a room again was also boring. He waited.

She put her wand back into the folds of her robes. When Narcissa looked down at her lap she _tsked_ and stood, brushing ineffectually at the clinging black hairs where Harry had been pinned down. She tried a number of whispered cleaning spells but the fur remained stubbornly attached.

Harry yawned, his tail curling with satisfaction. Served them right, manhandling him like that.

“Perhaps in the library.” Narcissa said faintly to herself and walked towards the door, stopping at the doorframe as she remembered him. She scanned the room for him as he trotted past her into the hall, meowing impatiently.

Narcissa followed, a bemused smile growing on her face as she walked down the hallway and Harry walked at her side. She led the way back down into the main part of the house through shadowed hallways with ornate doorways opening into large rooms of sheet-draped furniture that smelled like dust and stale air. 

The doors they finally stepped into led to a large library with ancient shelves, made of wood so dark it looked black, that went from the floor all the way to the ceiling two stories up. Harry walked around the room with interest, twining between the various tables and chairs in the center of the room, sniffing the old creaking leather armchairs so cushioned they seemed like they could swallow you whole, looking into empty, cold fireplaces. He resisting the urge to coat his paws with fine grey ash and leave a trail of prints on the smooth tile floors.

Eventually, he rejoined Narcissa, jumping up onto the table where she was flipping through a large book of household spells and charms. He sat above he book, looking at the words upside down as she scanned through spells for cleaning clothing. Every time she flipped a page he snaked a paw out, batting at the thin parchment, pouncing on the corner when the page came to rest. His tail moved behind him in long curls of restless energy.

Narcissa tutted at him faintly but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

She found the spell she was looking for and cast it with an elegant flick and incantation that removed all the fine black fur from the front of her robe.

“Perfect.” She called, “Kass!”

Kass appeared beside her, “Yes, Mistress?”

“Please bring me a piece of parchment and quill.” Narcissa paused, looking at Harry, “...and maybe a ribbon, or yarn, maybe a bell?”

Kass bowed, disappeared and returned hardly thirty seconds later with the first part of her request.

Narcissa copied down the charm for the cat hair cleaning charm onto the parchment, blowing lightly on the ink to speed it's drying.

Kass returned again, with a long piece of pink ribbon, a bell and some string.

Narcissa set the books and parchment aside and dangled the ribbon in front of Harry. He didn't think, just reacted. Something simple and exhilarating sparked in his mind driving him to swat at the ribbon, trying to grab it, claw it and bite it into submission. 

Harry lost track of time as the game continued and he played with the ribbon and other bits and bobs were transfigured into wands with feathery bits and streamers on the end and small pieces of parchment were wadded up and thrown across the floor for him to chase and lose beneath the table.

Kass found more and more things for Harry to play with. More house elves seemed to find their way to the room and somehow they all ended up sitting on the floor, ringed around a small black cat and vying for his attention with their toy of choice. Even Narcissa sat on the floor, her robes wrinkling as she allowed herself faint laughter and a smile that lit up her face and made her look like that little girl she had once been when she had played with her own kitten. She had tied a silver bell to the end of her pink ribbon and twitched her wand to make it jump and chime. 

Harry saw the flash of the bell and raced to the other side of the circle as the shining thing was teased away and leaped out of reach of his claws. He twisted and spun and as the bell bounced into the air high overhead he jumped after it, catching it in his paws and biting it before twisting to his feet once more and pouncing down on it to kill the toy again. Adrenaline surged through his body, he felt powerful and fast and every time he caught something he was filled with a sense of satisfaction that he couldn't put words to. He played until he had to lay down and pant, stretching out on his side on the cool stone floor.

Harry was gathered up and carried without fuss back to Malfoy's room where Narcissa laid him on the massive bed and pet his back as he closed his eyes and purred contentedly. He wasn't as bothered this time when she locked him in as she left, using a locking spell. He slept on the bed and then laid down by one of the windows, laying his head across his paws so he could look down into the garden and watch the peacocks. He felt torn between sleeping and grooming, he had never groomed himself but it seemed like it would be one one of those things he could just let the cat part take over on.

Being a cat made it hard to think normally. Harry had trouble contemplating the past and future. Cats, it seemed, were primarily concerned about what was happening now. When Harry forced his mind to be more human he understood that he wasn't worried about being turned into a cat largely in part because he _was_ a cat and that wasn't how cats thought. He knew it was a problem, being a cat might be nice but his friends would worry about him and they would mourn for him if he never returned. He didn't really want to hurt them like that but it was so, so hard to hold onto that thought because bubbling alongside those thoughts was always the fact that as a human he had been getting unhappy and anxious and this, right now, _this was so nice_.

He yawned and stretched out, digging his claws into the carpet. Without being quite aware, his mind slipped back into cat thinking and he groomed himself which was soothing in its monotony and simplicity. Then he slept until the sun slipped behind the treeline and Malfoy finally returned as dusk darkened the room.

Harry stood as Malfoy pushed the door closed behind him, walked straight to his bed until he could collapse onto it face first, letting out a deep groan into the plush comforter. His wand flicked out and he muttered something that could have been _lumos,_ lighting all the lamps around the room, before dropping his wand. Malfoy slowly rolled over onto his back and stared up at the high white ceiling.

Harry jumped onto the bed, walking over to Malfoy, whose head turned as he approach, "Hopefully, your day has been better than mine.”

Harry daintily stepped onto Malfoy, ignoring his groan, and sat on his chest, looking down at the pale, tired-looking git.

Malfoy smiled, reaching up and scratching around Harry's ear. It was a nice smile. Harry wished he could have seen it before he had become a cat, but their rivals turned pseudo-stranger-acquaintances relationship made that impossible to imagine.

Malfoy let his eyes close, his hands petting Harry in slow languid strokes.

“I told Father about you.” Malfoy said, “He seems to think that if I'm going to have some sort of interest in animals I should get something befitting of my station.” His tone changed to a gentle mocking imitation of his father, “ _A pet befitting of a Malfoy._ ” He snorted.

Harry tilted his head into Malfoy's fingers. Malfoy opened his eyes, looking at Harry through long blond lashes, with that easy smile, and Harry started purring with a suddenness that surprised him.

“He's offered to get me a snake or a hippogriff, even though I would hate both of those and they would give me terrible nightmares,” Malfoy sighed, “He said if I insisted on being a _child_ I should at least get a pureblooded crup or siamese half-kneazle.” His voice dropped to a mutter, “Of course nothing without a pedigree has any value to him. You'd think the war might have taught him differently.”

Harry laid down and leaned forward, to slide his cheek along the Malfoy's jaw, purring and feeling pleased.

Malfoy scratched his chin, “I have my doubts he can learn from his mistakes at all or he wouldn't have joined the second war after he was soundly fucked over by the first one.” He gave a short laugh that Harry wasn't certain he appreciated, it was like laying on an earthquake.

Malfoy closed his eyes again with a muttered, “Can't even pick out my own cat...”

Harry felt Malfoy relax, his breathing slowing down as he drifted off to sleep. Harry lay his head down, feeling Malfoy's heart beating under him, the rise and fall of every slow breath and the gentle heat of his body relaxing every muscle in his body and making him feel intensely safe. He was unaware of the weight of the chain as it briefly reappeared around his neck before he fell asleep and it vanished once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never sure what to say but it's nice to know so many people like what I've written so far. Thank you so very much!

When Harry finally decided to get up the next morning, it was to the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. Harry did a full complement of stretching, along with some really satisfying yawns, and laid down again, waiting for something interesting to happen.

Malfoy emerged from the bathroom in a fluffy white robe, toweling his hair dry as he made his way over to his wardrobe. He opened the very last set of doors which held shelves of trousers and shirts folded as neatly as in a shop. And then Malfoy took his robe off and Harry's brain stopped working altogether.

He knew he was dense as a half brick when it came to romance or attraction. It was only a year ago that he realized that staring at blokes arses as much as girls arses did not a straight boy make, but did double his dating pool. He hadn't bothered to tell Ron and Hermione because he hadn't actually dated a bloke and thus it wasn't relevant. Not that he was dating. Ninety percent of the witches and wizards that came on to him were interested in the idea of him rather than the rather unimpressive real him. The remaining ten percent made for lean pickings as far as finding someone attractive that he was attracted to, as well as not being totally barmy. 

But what was important right now, and patently unfair, was that Malfoy had the nicest arse Harry had every seen. 

And long legs. 

And a leanly muscled back. 

And pale unblemished skin. 

Harry felt irritable and anxious. Restless. He felt like he shouldn't be staring but couldn't look away. He didn't _want_ to look away. Merlin, Malfoy was fit. What in the world gave him the right to look so bloody gorgeous?

Malfoy dressed in grey trousers and pulled on a pale green button down, the faintest outline of his torso showed through the thin fabric when the light hit it just right. Both were tailored to fit every line of his body, there wasn't a single wrinkle or crease anywhere. It was frustrating how easy he made it look. Harry's clothes seem to rumple just from being put on like he generated some sort of personal dishevelment field.

A clink of dishes and the smell of food announced breakfast, and completely distracted Harry from staring. It was all neatly arranged on the small table in the middle of the sitting area. Amongst the boring breakfast smells was the far more important smell of bacon. Harry languidly slid off the bed and hurried over to the table, pleasantly surprised to find a tall stool beside the chair set for Malfoy. He jumped onto the stool, which brought him nearly level to the table, and looked at the offerings. There was tea, toast, eggs and bacon along with scones and fresh jam for Malfoy and set in front of Harry's chair was a small plate with a piece of bacon and a fish grilled to perfection, all cut into small cat sized bites. 

Harry couldn't stop the little noise of excitement as he stared down at the meal just for him.

“What in the-” Malfoy said incredulously when he saw and then laughed as he dropped into his chair beside Harry.

Harry dipped his head down to his plate and began eating with relish. He had never had much of a taste for fish, 'cept the kind with chips, but this was quite probably the best thing he had ever eaten. 

“The house elves have lost their minds,” Malfoy muttered as he selected a large scone tinted pink by strawberries and a dish of clotted cream.

After breakfast Malfoy summoned Mipsy and had her bring him a belt that looked like a tool belt for gardening but instead of trowels and weeding forks, his pockets were filled with all the regular gardening tools, shrunk down to fit in small pockets alongside a holster for his wand. He didn't bother with robes, just the muggle clothes and a viciously strong sunblock charm that made Harry's skin prickle in sympathy with the sting he knew accompanied it.

Malfoy shoulders were relaxed as he led the way out of the room with a perfunctory, “Come along, James,” and headed through the house, out a side door leading to a terrace and gazebo. Malfoy headed for the nearest flower beds, his walk slowing as he carefully circled each one. He had his wand in hand and would cast a number of spells over the brilliant flowers and plants that made auras of red, blue or purple, which then prompted other spells that Harry also had no idea what they did. Occasionally, he would drop down to his heels, fingers in the soil checking for soil moisture or any sign of weeds, something apparently best done by hand. 

Harry followed Malfoy on his rounds but kept falling behind, finding himself easily distracted. There were flowerbeds to creep through and crickets and butterflies to chase. He managed to catch a few by dumb luck and barely stopped himself from eating them but it was a near thing.

As they headed further back along the side of the manor and away from the front, the gardens which had all been perfect and beautiful gave way to a wasteland of overgrown beds filled with weeds and half-dead plants. It was as if someone had drawn an invisible line with the perfect gardens on one side and the untended on the other side. Malfoy headed for a bed in the process of being cleaned out. Most of the weeds were gone, leaving only a few wild-looking flowering shrubs in the center of the area.

Harry lay on the grass and watched Malfoy as he trimmed the bushes back, his brow furrowed in concentration. Sweat darkening his back as the summer sun beat down.

“Young Master!” Mipsy's voice ran out.

Harry's ears flicked towards the noise but didn't bother turning his head. He had no interest in looking away from the way Mafoy's shoulders moved under his shirt.

“Lunch, Mipsy?” Malfoy asked, straightening and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Yes!” Mipsy said but looking nervous as she added, “Master says Greengrass is arriving soon and you must entertain her.”

“Her?” Malfoy's brow drew together, “Father was meeting with Lancaster Greengrass today, I wasn't aware anyone else was coming.”

Mipsy bowed, “Greengrass daughter has come.”

Malfoy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath that didn't remove the pinch between his eyebrows, “Daphne or Astoria?”

“Astoria Greengrass.”

“Small blessings,” Malfoy muttered.

“Where shall Mipsy prepare lunch?” Mipsy asked, “And shall I set out robes?”

He shook his head, “It would've been nice to have more warning than this.”

“Yes.” Mipsy said mournfully, “Mipsy was just allowed. Master said you wasn't to be given time to complain about it.”

Malfoy instantly stiffened, his eyes sparking with fury, “My father knew and he-” He broke off as the rage choked the words in his throat.

Harry noted that Mipsy wasn't cowering and offering to punish herself. She only looked upset on behalf of Malfoy, twisting her pillowcase in her hands. Both Mipsy and Jass had seemed very happy compared to how Harry remembered Dobby acting when he was a Malfoy elf. 

Malfoy took a few deep breaths to calm down, “Serve lunch at the northern gazebo, please guide Miss Astoria there when she arrives.” He grimly wiped the dirt on his hands off on his trousers, leaving streaks of brown on the fine grey linen. 

“And will you be needing to change clothes?” Mipsy asked.

“No,” Malfoy snapped, stalking past Mispy and back to the front of the house.

Harry almost had to run to keep up. Malfoy was in too sour a mood to even acknowledge him.

Malfoy threw himself into one of the seats set about a wrought iron table in the center of the white marble gazebo, crawling with vines. 

Harry tried to jump into his lap.

“James-!” Malfoy said in a warning tone.

Harry froze, balanced on Malfoy's legs and looked up with a  _merw?_

Malfoy tried to glare at him but slowly lost the tension in his shoulders. He sighed in defeat and ran his hand across Harry's back.

This seemed permission enough for Harry so he laid down, curling his tail around himself. He looked up to watch Malfoy and hopefully encourage him to scratch Harry's chin. He did and Harry purred. The furrow between Malfoy's brows disappeared and was replaced by a faint smile. The moment didn't last.

The ringing click of heels announced the approach of Astoria and Harry was put back on the ground as Malfoy rose to greet her. She was a few years younger than Malfoy, wearing slytherin-green robes that seemed too heavy and warm for the weather. She had long dark brown hair that fell around her fair face like sheets of silk. 

Harry found a sunbeam on one of the large marble railings around the gazebo and melted into it. The sun had warmed the marble deliciously and it made Harry feel like he were soaking in a rich honey-like heat.

The table filled with food, all small dainty things that could be easily eaten without fuss. The two of them exchanging bland pleasantries as they ate, saying a lot of nothing much whatsoever. 

When lunch was replaced with tea and biscuits Astoria said, with the same nonchalance as she had when speaking about the weather, “Your father is hoping to arrange a marriage contract between our families.”

Malfoy had been pouring the tea and froze for only a split second, “Is that so?” he said blandly, sitting the teapot back down and sliding the cup to Astoria.

Harry raised his head, tail twitching in annoyance.

Astoria pushed her long hair behind one ear and took a sip from her cup, looking surprisingly poised for a girl barely out of school, “I'm sure your father would have preferred my sister Daphne but my father would hardly risk such a potentially dangerous match with his eldest.”

The conversation was startling frank for a Slytherin and Malfoy seemed immensely uncomfortable, managing only a stiff nod.

Astoria looked up with piercing dark eyes, “I expect little from marriage, it's hardly my place to complain, but I do expect my husband to treat me with respect and kindness. So long as I think you will treat me well, I shall have no complaints.”

Malfoy was still as stone, as if he were just another part of the gazebo, carved from cold white marble.

Harry jumped off the railing and back onto Malfoy's lap, standing on his legs and stretching up to get his face as close to Malfoy's as possible. His whiskers tickling across Malfoy's cheeks, so close their noses briefly touched and then Harry pulled back and sneezed so hard he startled himself.

This broke the spell of stillness on Malfoy and he reached up with both hands, to squish Harry's face between his hands until Harry squirmed away.

“Your pet?” Astoria asked.

They both looked over at her. She stood and carefully rearranging her robes so they lay perfectly flat. She was looking at Harry was distaste, her mouth turned down slightly, “I'm allergic to cats.”

Malfoy's expression didn't change but Harry was certain he was suppressing a sneer.

“Well.” Astoria said with a little sigh and a wave, “This was lovely. Thank you for having me. I'm sure we'll see each other again.”

He didn't get up from his chair to see her off properly only nodded and called for Mipsy, “Please escort Miss Greengrass back to her father.” 

Once she was out of sight Malfoy slumped back into his chair. He looked tired. Harry reached out and pawed at his hand until Malfoy gave in and started petting Harry again. For the first time since becoming a cat he felt anxious. He wanted Malfoy to smile again and relax like he had been before but didn't know how to help. 

Malfoy seemed to collect himself and went back to his flowerbeds, weeding two other overgrown beds with tense desperation until his shirt was dark with sweat. He sat down on the grass beside Harry, dragging his hands through his hair and leaving it tangled and mussed. They watched the sunset together in silence and went inside as the last rays dipped behind the horizon and the air began to grow cold.

They ate dinner with Narcissa in a small informal dining room and then returned to their room. Malfoy read for a few hours by the fire then got ready for bed and Harry tried to convince himself not to watch but was reminded that cats have very little impulse control, or maybe he had little impulse control and being a cat made it worse. He may have also watched Malfoy shower. Harry tried to feel guilty about this and couldn't really manage it.

The next morning, Malfoy was summoned to join Lucius as soon as he woke up. Malfoy leisurely ate his breakfast and dressed for the day, tan trousers and a blue button up. He let Harry follow him, out of the west wing and into the main part of the manor, to Lucius' study.

The room where the old stuff-pot did all his scheming was appropriately broody; with no windows, no rugs, all dark wood and uncomfortable looking chairs. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with a mixture of the driest law tomes ever written and collections of expensive, old moldery books that were probably just barely legal to own. 

“Finally deigned to join me, have you...?” Lucius said coldly, looking up as Malfoy stepped inside. His gaze instantly zeroed in on Harry and he stood and pointed his wand at him in one smooth movement.

“Father-!”

The blue light of the animagus reversal spell washed over Harry.

Lucius tried a few other spells on Harry, revealing spells and reverse transfiguration spells but all they accomplished was making Harry intensely on edge. Harry pressed himself behind Malfoy's legs, leaving only his twitching tail in view of the other man.

“If you're satisfied-?” Malfoy said through clenched teeth, his hand pressed over the handle of his wand.

Lucius sat his wand down on his desk with a loud _click._ His expression was impassive but his voice was brittle with disdain, “Hardly. You picked up a flea-ridden pest, off the street no less, without a second thought. Did you even think to check it?”

The twitch Harry could feel through Malfoy's legs said that he hadn't.

Lucius continued, “It could have been an animangus you let into our house. We have many enemies in this world, Draco.”

Harry looked up, Malfoy was a straight line of tension and simmering anger. Harry rubbed along the back of Malfoy's legs but it was too little in the face of Lucius Malfoy disdain.

“You are such a _child,_ ” Lucius sneered what seemed to be his favorite insult. “Wearing muggle clothes, gardening like a house-elf; your display in front of Miss Greengrass was _entirely_ unacceptable.”

Malfoy's raised his chin, narrowed his eyes slightly and said  _nothing_ .

Lucius' walking stick slammed across the top of his desk with a _crack_ that scared the living shit out of Harry. He bolted to the bookcases and slipped behind the line of tall books, peering just over the tops. 

Malfoy tensed but his expression didn't waver. 

“Right now you're not worthy of the name Malfoy,” Lucius hissed.

They glared at one another, neither giving an inch.

Harry walked along the back of the bookshelf. At the corner he made an interesting discovery, the shelves themselves were attached to the wall but there was a square gap in the corner that a small black cat could just fit through. Harry pushed his head through and pulled himself up a shelf.

Malfoy wearing muggle clothes.

He pulled himself up another shelf.

Gardening by hand.

Harry eased himself onto the top shelf.

Adopting stray cats.

He sniffed along the books.

Malfoy- No. _Draco._ Draco was _rebelling_.

Harry came upon a row of books that were chained to the wall and smelled like a dirty copper coin tastes. If he had to guess what dark magic might smell like, it would be that. Harry resisted the overwhelming urge to hiss at them and back away.

He looked over the top of the books and down at the desk. Lucius was lecturing Draco with all the compassion of a thrown knife, about duty and loyalty and _family_ _honor_. 

Harry's ears laid back. He stepped behind the row of chained books, squatted, and peed. He stopped once he had made a respectable puddle to soak into the expensive, and hopefully irreplaceable, books and walked to the end of the bookshelf.

Lucius was now speaking about the history and power of Malfoys past with all the appeal of a Binns History of Magic lecture.

In the center of Lucius' desk was several large ledgers made with the finest vellum pages and leather covers in deep blue, stamped with the Malfoy crest in silver filigree. One ledger was open, showing line after line of hand written entries in beautiful flowing cursive.

Harry crouched down, wriggling as his body tensed.

_Rebellion._

He jumped, landing in the center of the desk with a faint  _thmp_ . Lucius and Draco stared at him in shock.

_**Rebellion** _ _._

Harry looked at Draco, squatted and emptied the rest of his bladder in the center of the open ledger.

Harry briefly saw Draco's eyes widen as he suppressed a delighted smile right before Harry bolted off the top of the desk, pelting out the door at full speed.

It was a shame not to see Lucius expression, but the bellow of pure unadulterated rage that followed him as he ran was nearly as sweet.

Harry ran back to the west wing until he found Narcissa, reading in a chaise lounge in a silvery grey room that made her look like a painting. He hopped up next to her, curling against her hip and the back of the chair.

She looked down from her book and smiled, scratching behind his ears before returning to her reading. He laid his head down and let his eyes half close, watching the door in anticipation.

It took a surprisingly long time for Lucius to track him down. Despite that, it seemed like his rage hadn't cooled even slightly when he limped into the room. His sleek white hair was wild with fly-aways, his whole face curled into a snarl, with his wand clenched in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white.

Harry wiggled further down behind Narcissa, his ears laying back flat against his skull.

“Lucius?” Narcissa dropped her book to her lap. She braced an arm across the back of the chaise and sat up, concern lacing her voice, “What's going on?”

His voice came out strangled, “Get away from that vermin.” His wand twitched at Harry.

Narcissa looked down at Harry in alarm, covering him with her hands protectively, “Absolutely not, Lucius!”

“It _urinated_ on my desk!” He stabbed his walking stick down on the floor to punctuate his point.

“He's just a cat!”

“Yes.” Lucius repeated, “It's _just_ a cat. It can be replaced.”

Narcissa's voice dropped and took on a note of warning, “Both your son and I are very fond of James.”

“Move, Narcissa.” Lucius took a step closer, his wand held unnervingly still as it pointed straight at Harry.

Harry shivered and made a pitiable  _nyow_ .

Narcissa glared back at her husband and remained right where she was.

Draco walked into the room, his hands casually in his pockets. His expression was unreadable but Harry could see that he his eyes were laughing, “Hello, Mother. Thank you for taking care of James for me,” he said, stepping in front of Lucius' wand and leaning over the chaise. He kissed Narcissa on the cheek and scooped Harry up in his arms. “I'm afraid, Father cast some detection spells on James and it made him quite unsettled.”

Narcissa's eyes glittered in cold amusement, “Oh the poor dear. You should take him somewhere calm, maybe out in the gardens?”

Draco smiled faintly, “I agree, a nice rest in the gardens would do him good.”

Draco headed out the door past a frozen Lucius Malfoy. 

Behind them Narcissa started in on Lucius, “ _Really, Lucius?_ You were going to kill a _cat_? The first pet your _own son_ has ever wanted for himself and you think you can just-?!” Her voice faded as they turned down the hallway and headed outside.

“I think,” Draco said softly, his voice rumbling in his chest, “it would be safer if you avoided my father from now on.”

Harry said,  _merr?_

Draco scratched his neck, “If I didn't know any better, I would say you did that on purpose.” He looked down at Harry, grey eyes studying green. “I certainly wouldn't put it past a kneazle from the stories I've heard.”

Harry stretched his head up til his nose touched Draco's, his whiskers curling in and brushing his cheeks.

Draco's pulled his head back with a _phef_ of blown air, scrunching his nose. He sat Harry down on the grass outside and itched his nose. “Come along, we'll check the orchards,” He headed towards the side of the manor, “They've started fruiting and I need to make sure the pest repelling charms are all active.”

Harry trotted along at his side.


	4. Chapter 4

Perhaps as revenge, Lucius dragged Draco off on business meetings for the next two days, leaving Harry behind at the manor. He spent the time divided between staying with Narcissa, playing or napping, and exploring the manor. Most of the rooms were under dusters, filled with shadows and unsettling silence. Harry recognized some of the rooms, the ballroom where Bellatrix and H- the entryway where Draco didn't- ...he avoided the stairs he knew lead down to the dungeons. The rest of the manor was new to him and mostly interesting. Some of the portraits would talk or yell at him and Harry liked to stop and listen to them. The more hysterical of them reminded him of Aunt Walburga back at Grimmauld, he almost felt a little homesick for the crazy old bat,  _almost_ .

The best discovery he made was on the second day when he found the kitchens. The house elves stuffed him full of treats and then opened the door for him so he could go outside and sleep in the sun. When he was done he scratched at the kitchen door and they let him back it and gave him more treats. It was _fantastic_.

Another unfortunate that thing happened was Draco started closing his bathroom door when he bathed, and thus Harry couldn't watch. Apparently, he didn't enjoy having a small black cat stare at him raptly as he wanked in the shower. Harry had to hold the memory of the one time he had seen in his heart and, of course, sit with his head against the door so he could listen.

The third day was free of both business meetings and Lucius-ledgers so Draco spent it in the gardens. They ate lunch, sitting in the grass as Draco tried to hit the peacocks across the lawn with stinging hexes. He missed them every time probably on purpose but the light from the spell was enough to make the daft birds startle and run off. 

They went back inside earlier than normal when Draco became tired, a good, hard work sort of tiredness that left a faint smile on his face. He led the way back to his room and held the door to his room open and let Harry walk through first before stepping inside and pulling it shut.

Harry stopped a few steps in, raising his nose to sniff a new smell that hadn't been there before, an artificially sweet, flowery smell.

The source of the smell rose to her feet from where she had been sitting by the fireplace with an exasperated, “Finally! I was almost about to consider looking for you outside, and by that I mean track down an elf and threaten them to find you for me.” Pansy hadn't changed much from school, with her straight black hair cut into a bob and perfectly curled in around her face and her expression of perpetual impatience. Unlike school, she wasn't wearing robes but a lovely, muggle, knee-length pink dress that was in a nineteen fifties americana style. The dress suited her pouty expression and upturned nose, reminding Harry of some sort of old advert for kitchen appliances.

“Pansy?” Draco said, walking around the chairs to her.

She reached out to take his hands and then recoiled, “Goodness, were you rolling in the dirt? I know you said you were taking an interest in gardening, Draco, but is there really a need to get so filthy? Can't you use magic like a proper wizard?”

“Not precise enough. Besides a proper wizard would leave it to the house-elves.” Malfoy said, a lopsided smile on his face, “You look lovely.”

Harry crept under a chair, watching the two of them with interest.

She preened, “Of course I do, darling. You look quite stunning as well, aside from the dirt. Muggle trousers really suit you,” She said with a hint of a leer in her voice.

“I know.” Draco said blandly and then they shared a smug grin. He asked, “Why are you here, Pans? I wasn't expecting you.”

Pansy dropping back into her seat indelicately, “Of course not. Whenever I owl ahead you're always too busy. A sneak attack seemed in order.”

Malfoy sat down across from her, “I am busy,” He said defensively then abruptly tried to change the subject, “Your new job must be keeping you busy as well.”

Pansy snorted with all the delicacy of a bull, “The gossip section for Witch Weekly is not going to take up _all_ of my time. _I_ still have time to go out. Bar hopping, dancing, drinking, ring any bells?”

“It hasn't been that long, Pans,” Draco said softly.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, “You've only come out with us _once_ since your father finished his house arrest. Anytime we invite you, he _makes_ you busy.”

Draco didn't have anything to say to this. He just took an empty cup, fixing it just the way he liked, lots of milk, a touch of sugar.

“And now-” she continued, “-he's arranging a marriage contract between you and the Greengrass;-”

Draco's head snapped up in a glare.

Pansy waved her hand dismissively, “Gossip column, darling. As I was saying, arranging a marriage when you're bent as they come-”

Harry's ears snapped forward, his whole body tensing as he focused on the words. Draco was _gay_? 

“Pansy!” Draco hissed a warning.

“UGH!” She threw up her hands, “Draco! You hate finance and you're gay! Why are you even here?! Lucius is trying to mold you into him but you-” she jabbed his chest with a perfectly manicured pink fingernail, “-are not a butter mold!”

“Butter mold-?”

“-You are a human being! Act like one!” She demanded.

“This is where I am supposed to be-!” Draco hissed, anger gently simmering above frustration he didn't dare voice, “My family-”

“Balls to family!” Pansy cut him off, scooting forward on the edge of her chair, “My father wanted to package me up and marry me off too and I got out! Skimmed enough galleons from the vault to get a place in London and ended up with a flat and a job that I love! I'm happy now, Draco!” She paused, taking in a shaky breath, suddenly on the edge of tears, “Are you?”

Draco slowly settled his weight back into his chair, his chin lifting slightly in silent defiance.

Pansy rapidly blinked her eyes, wiping tears from the corners with quickly little flicks of her nails, “I don't like seeing you like this, Draco.”

His head dropped and his eyes flickered down to his tea, unwilling to look her in the eye.

She said softly, “I miss you. Blaise misses you.”

“I miss you as well.” Draco said softly. “I have been trying...”

Pansy smiled like she thought Draco was sweet but completely daft, “You're father has never changed. He never will.”

Draco traced the edge of his cup, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“You just seemed so subdued...” Pansy sighed, “I feel like the old fart is choking the life out of you. You haven't even insulted me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that an indicator of health now?”

“For you it is, you poncy brat,” She rolled her eyes, flopping back into her chair and crossed her legs, “Interesting rumor going around...” She said suddenly, playing with the handle of her cup and watching for Draco's reaction from the corner of her eye, “Potter's gone missing. No one's seen him recently, his sidekicks have been looking twitchy but keeping it all very hush-hush.”

Draco scoffed faintly, letting his cup press against his lip and taking a tiny sip. 

“Not even Potter?” Pansy leaned forward. 

“Why in the world should I care about the specky git?” Draco muttered.

“But he always riles you up!” She pouted, “Always! If even he can't affect you anymore...” Her brow furrowed and she pressed her thumbnail between her teeth.

“You'll ruin your manicure.” Draco said flatly.

Pansy jerked her nail out of her mouth, “Who cares about that?! You need to get out of this mausoleum!” She bounced to the edge of her chair and snatched up Draco's free hand between hers, squeezing it tightly, “Promise you'll come out with us on saturday. A night out will do you wonders!”

Harry crept out from under the chair slightly watching the exchange with interest.

Draco nodded reluctantly, “I'll try, Pans.”

She rolled her eyes again and squeezed his hand, “No! Draco Lucius Malfoy, promise me!”

“...Fine. I promise.” He smiled weakly.

Pansy Parkinson had left a bad taste in Harry's mouth after what happened during the war but... Harry couldn't help thinking she deserved a second chance. Maybe she just didn't know her well enough. He rather liked who she was when she was with Draco.

A screech pulled Harry from his thoughts and he flattened his ears and his body to the ground.

“OHMYGOODNESS! You have a cat, Draco!?” Pansy said, looking down at Harry with her hands pressed to her mouth, “Can I pet it? Will it let me pet it?”

Draco's brows shot up, “I didn't think you liked animals.”

She smacked his arm without looking away from Harry, “Who doesn't like kitties!? Is it a boy or a girl? What's its name?” 

“His name is James.”

“Oooo,” she cooed, sliding off her chair and reaching out her hand, her voice dropping to a sickly sweet croon, “James, such a cute little thing, come here little kitty.”

Everything about the way she moved, too abrupt, and sounded, too shrill, screamed at him to run, disappear under the bed and never come out again but... He looked up at Draco, he looked hopeful and amused, and Draco liked Pansy. So he held still and let her pet him.

She patted him more than pet him, her hand pushing rather than pressing and she didn't use her wonderful nails at all. Harry pressed into the carpet and looked up balefully at Draco, his ears down in a plea for help.

“Merlin help me, have you ever pet a cat before?” Draco stepped over and scooped a very grateful Harry into his arms and sat back down with him.

Pansy popped into her chair, sitting as close as humanly possible to Harry, “Of course I have!” She pouted, “I always get scratched, though.”

He chuckled, “I'm not surprised. Here, give me your hand,” he took Pansy's hand and pulled it over to Harry, laying his overtop and guiding her, “Like this... and James likes to be scratched... here, the same way you would run your fingers through a lover's hair.”

Her lovely long nails glided through his fur and scratched his cheeks the way Draco showed and Harry began to relax, leaning into her touch. He even started purring to Pansy's immense delight.

“I didn't know you wanted a pet, Draco.” Pansy said sedately, half leaning over the arm of his chair. “You never really had any interest in school.”

Draco hmmed vaguely, holding Harry's sides loosely as Pansy pet him, “I was in Diagon alley with Father on business and he started following me. The animal obviously had exceptional taste so I decided to keep him.”

“James, though?” Pansy scratched under Harry's chin, “A scruffy alley cat and you name him James?”

“I was going for subtlety.” Draco sniffed.

She snorted, “You were going for weird,” she smiled fondly, “I'm glad you have him. Your mother's nice and all but being alone here-” She shook her head, her curls bouncing, “-it wouldn't be good for anyone.”

Draco grinned, his eyes sparkling with delight, “You should hear what he did in my father's study the other day.”

Pansy perked up with interest as he launched into the story.

Later that night, once Pansy had flooed home and Draco had retired for the night, Harry curled tight into Draco's side, stared out the tall windows shining with pale moonlight and did his best to think human. Harry couldn't stop the hope and wanting every time he thought about Draco being gay. He wondered if it was conceited of him to even think he had a chance. He wondered, somewhat anxiously, if he would choose to be human again for that chance.

The days that followed were quiet with only a few memorable moments. 

Saturday, Draco got an owl from Pansy telling him where to meet them for their night out. Lucius found out somehow, monitoring all owl messages or through one of the house elves. He didn't forbid Draco to go but he kept him in his office all day, reviewing profit summaries of various companies he was considering investing in. Despite being mentally exhausted, Draco flooed out anyway at ten and came back only two hours later, slightly drunk and too tired to even take off his boots before he laid down. Mipsy took off his boots and covered him with a blanket. Harry spent far to much time sniffing all the smells that still clung to Draco and trying to pick them apart, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol, Pansy's perfume, sweat both his own and traces of other peoples. He knew he was jealous of every smell that might be another person, of every possibility that someone else had been able to touch Draco in a way Harry could not. He felt the chain reappear on his neck, heavy and cold, and ignored it. It quickly disapeared once more.

On sundays the Malfoy family apparently always had dinner together in a formal dining room and the elves had set a place for Harry too. Harry took great pleasure in being perfectly well behaved and staring blankly at Lucius between courses to watch the blood vessel throbbing on his forehead as the old man seethed at the indignity. 

The days were interspersed with business and gardening after that, similar but each slightly different and Harry came to know Draco and Narcissa almost like family. It was a comforting and easy life, one that Harry had long dreamed of. He had always dreamed his life would be like way once the war was done and Voldemort was dead but it had never happened. The expectations and pressures never faded, the fame only got worse, the anxiety was the same but different because it had no solution. Harry had sometimes secretly wished he could go back in time, at least when Voldemort was alive he had a goal in sight, an answer to all his problems, even though it wasn't true.

Life didn't have easy solutions. 

Two weeks had passed when trouble came to Harry's uneasy paradise.

Lucius met with Lancaster Greengrass again and Astoria came along for tea. Mipsy told Draco about it that morning and laid out formal robes for him to wear. Draco ignored the chosen robes, wore trousers and a button up that were showing signs of wear. He spent the rest of the day in the gardens weeding until dirt and sweat stained his white shirt and streaked across his cheek where he had wiped his hand.

He arrived at the gazebo late for tea and immediately scooped Harry into his lap like a shield. 

Astoria looked up briefly from her cup and then looked away, out over the gardens. She was wearing full formal robes and sweat dotted her temples but she otherwise looked completely unaffected. When Draco didn't offer an apology for being late she ignored it, when he didn't cast a cooling charm, she did it herself.

The sat in stiff silence until Mipsy came to get Astoria.

Only then, as she was rising to her feet, did Draco speak, “I intend to refuse the marriage.” He said.

She simply nodded, folded her hands together in front of herself and followed Mipsy back inside.

Harry looked up at Draco, trying to read his expression, the tension still caught in his shoulders, the furrow between his eyes. Harry didn't like being carried around but he didn't wiggle free this time as Draco held him in his arms and walked the hallways leading to Lucius' office.

Draco knocked on the door to the study firmly, schooling his features calm and mask-like. Only Harry could feel how stiff he was with anxiety. 

“Come in.” Lucius said flatly. 

The door opened soundlessly as Draco stepped inside. Lucius didn't look up as his son stopped before his desk. He was carefully reviewing a contract covered in notes and additions, other parts scratched out as two men tried to come to an equitable agreement about a marriage for their children.

Draco cleared his throat nervously, “Father-” his words broke off as he struggled to speak, his whole body tensing, “...Father, I don't want to marry Astoria Greengrass.”

Lucius didn't look up. A slight narrowing of the eyes was the only sign he had even been listening.

Harry slid his cheek along Draco's hand in silent encouragement.

Draco swallowed hard, his jaw clenching, “I _won't_ marry Astoria Greengrass.”

“Enough.” Lucius voice said quietly, his quill still writing, “I won't hear it.”

Draco looked as if he had been slapped.

“You'll do as you're told, for the good of the family.” Lucius glanced up briefly, no expression on his face, dipped his quill in the inkwell and looked back down.

Draco's breathing was short, his chest lifting as his cheeks took on a faint red color. “Am I not part of the family?” His voice was so quiet Harry almost couldn't hear it, his words shaking, “Don't I have a say?”

“If,” Lucius paused, his words dispassionate, “I thought you had the maturity to make such decisions on your own I would not being doing this. However, you have persisted in exhibiting juvenile behavior not suitable for your age and therefore cannot be trusted with such an important decision.” He sighed, “Even _you_ should be capable of understanding that.”

Draco's mouth pressed into a tight line, “I do not.” He shook his head, turned around and left Lucius' study, carefully closing the door behind him.

Draco walked back to his rooms slowly. His face seemed serene and untouchable but after spending sixth year as Draco's shadow Harry knew better. It was an expression he recognized as helplessness.

Draco stepped inside his room, closing the door and leaning back against it like he was trying to shut out the world out behind him. The late afternoon sun cut slivers of light across the white carpet, an open window brought a gentle breeze that fluttered across the sheer curtains. 

Harry braced his paws on Draco's chest, raising his head and slowly sliding his head across Draco's chin. He wished he could hold Draco. Harry wanted to wrap his arms around him and tell him it would be _ok_ and wished- he so desperately wished- that it could be true.

“What is-?” Draco slid a finger between his fur and a heavy silver chain around his neck and it instantly unclasped in Draco's hand.


	5. Chapter 5

  


They fell away from one another, Draco back against the door, Harry tumbling forward onto the carpet as it all came undone.

Harry gasped, his vision a pinpoint of white surrounded by darkness. The world reeled around him as he tried to get the breath he hadn't brought with him back. His hands pressed into the carpet, clutching at the strands and feeling nauseous.

“What the absolute fucking hell-” Draco said softly.

Hands. Harry stared at his hands. He felt big, heavy; felt awkward and horrible. He grasped after that feeling he had had for two week, that effortless existence, just living the present, no future, no past, just now- 

It was gone.

“POTTER?!”

Harry went still, every fiber of his body freezing as the memories of the last two weeks washed over him. He had - _Merlin_ \- His breath caught in his throat. He had- Draco had _pet_ him and Harry had _let_ him do it. Harry had been his pet and he had loved every minute of it. He felt heat flush up through his chest and neck, filling his face as he remembered playing with cat toys and sleeping on laps and - _oh fuck_ \- rubbing his face against Draco's and-

“...Potter?”

Harry's face burned with desperate embarrassment.

He had watched Draco when he was _naked._ He had _watched him shower_. Harry had stared at him without an _ounce_ of shame and jealously _coveted_ every second of his attention.

Draco walked around in front of Harry and waved a hand in front of his face making him jump but he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Draco raised an eyebrow. 

“Is it possible to die from embarrassment?” Harry croaked hoarsely, his voice faint.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, “If it were possible you would've died a long time ago, Potter,” he said flatly with a dangerous look in his eye.

Harry's head snapped up, “You-!” and the words died in his throat as he looked at Draco. Those words were Malfoy but Harry knew _Draco._

He knew how Draco smiled, showing just the pointed tips of his canines between his lips, and how he laughed, a deep and rich noise that bubbled up from the bottom of his chest. Harry knew how gentle Draco could be, with long fingers, and how protective, carrying him away from Lucius' rage.

Harry knew how happiness looked when it was shining in Draco's eyes making them look coin bright and crinkle at the corners.

Harry _knew_ him now.

Merlin help him, Harry knew him now...

Grey eyes, stone grey, dove grey, studied his face showing the barest hints of Draco being ill at ease. And they were _beautiful._

“Oh,” Harry breathed.

Draco was  _beautiful_ .

All the acerbic words and sneers in the world couldn't change the fact that Harry _liked_ Draco Malfoy so fiercely it burned in his chest like fiendfyre consuming him from the inside out.

“...Oh.” Harry wilted, his face hot from more than embarrassment now. He pressed his hands over his face and willed the floor to swallow him whole. It did not oblige.

“An explanation, Potter? Now. Before I lose my patience and hex your bloody bollocks off.”

Harry forced himself to drop his hands. Draco was tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Um...” Harry took a deep breath, gathering up the vestiges of his Gryffindor courage. “I was headed to the apothecary and got mobbed.” He forced his eyes further up and saw in Draco's crossed arms he held his wand and a long silvery chain. Harry nodded to the chain, “Someone put that on me and next thing I knew I was a cat.”

Draco turned the chain over in his hands, narrowing his eyes, “And you thought you'd just follow me home? Stalking again?” He sneered faintly.

Harry sighed and his head fell. He stared at the white carpet blankly, “...I didn't mean to.”

“Ah well _that_ explains _everything_ ,” Draco said bitterly.

Harry looked up at him, panic fluttering in his chest.

Draco rolled his eyes, “I can see that you didn't ' _mean to'_ Potter, you're redder than a baboon's ass for fucks sake.”

Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him, “It was just... I couldn't really think like a human very well.” He thought about standing, but part of him loathed the idea of being tall. He suddenly felt exhausted as if a great weight had been put on his shoulders, “...Cats live in the moment. Thinking about the past and the future was... hard.”

“Thinking is hard for you at the best of times, wouldn't want to wear out your two brain cells.”

Harry half smiled, it was weird but he had missed the insults too. Pansy was right, Draco just wasn't right without a few sarcastic, scathing comments. He watched Draco rub the links of the chain between his thumb and index finger. Harry asked, “I- Do you think I could-?” His hand reached out slightly towards the chain.

Draco followed his gaze, “You want it back?” He asked in disbelief.

Harry guiltily flushed again, “Erm...It was nice being a cat.”

“You're barking.”

“Meowing, actually.” Harry said with an awkward grin.

Draco snorted, “You're not getting it back.” He took a white handkerchief, that Harry would swear was monogrammed, and dropped the chain into it, wrapping it up securely in the fabric.

Harry's eyes widened.

“Don't be an idiot, Potter, you have no idea where it's from or if it might do something other than turn the wearer into a cat.” He shook his head, “If you die here it'll be bothersome to clean up.”

“Right.” Harry hesitated and looked away, “No, you're right. Of course... That makes sense.”

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Just- I need to call Mipsy, could you go in the bathroom and pretend you don't exist for ten minutes?”

“What?” Harry stared at him in confusion.

“You owe me, now move it.” Draco said impatiently.

Harry pushed himself to his feet and Draco shooed him to the bathroom, pulling the door shut with a soft click behind him. He vaguely heard Draco's voice, cut to a soft susurration by the door. He went to the sink, bracing his arms on the white marble and staring into the mirror. His reflection stared back, familiar and still somehow unsettling; olive-tan skin, green eyes behind silver wire rims that Ginny had talked him into getting before they broke it off. 

His hair was a fright and Harry half-heartedly ran his hands under the tap and ran his fingers through the mess. It helped but he knew it wouldn't last. The grey hairs were back. Harry considered re-hiding them under a glamour and then shrugged, running his fingers along the sides of his hair, below his temples where most of them were. He rather liked them. He couldn't remember if he had particularly liked them before.

Harry was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing at the start of this whole mess, a loose black tee-shirt and a pair of jeans that had seen better days. He had left his auror robes at his desk, he forgot them more often than not these days, and for once, Harry was very glad of it; Draco would not have responded half as well to him if he had been in uniform. He patted his back pocket and found his wand right where he had left it. Other than looking possibly more rumpled than normal, if that were possible, it almost seemed as if no time had passed at all.

Harry heard what sounded like his name being shouted through the door and he was about to turn and leave when he was struck by a realization. With his skin tone it was very hard to tell when he was blushing, even his friends couldn't tell most of the time, but Draco had.

The bathroom door snapped open, “Potter! Get in here!” Draco yelled from somewhere further in the room. 

“Coming.” Harry hurried back into Draco's room and stopped dead, there were about twenty books crowding the small tea table, all thicker than a brick. Draco was already flicking through one of the huge books, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“What are these?” Harry asked, walking over and dropping into the nearest chair. The spines of the books were all stamped with, _Carduel: Premier Auction House_ , with a year dated beneath. Draco flicked his wand, causing the top most book to fly into Harry's chest with a thump and a groan.

“Assuming the necklace isn't a dark artifact it would have most likely been on the market at some point. Carduel is the only auction house in Britain, well the only one worth bothering with, and they make a listing book for all the items auctioned every year.” Draco pointed to where the chain was laying across his knee on the white handkerchief, “This has a powerful transfiguration spell on it, human to animal which normally takes a lot of power.” He looked at the confused expression on Harry's face and scowled, “All transfigurations reverts eventually to it's original form without a source of power. I honestly don't know how you ever finished school.”

“I didn't.”

Draco narrowed his eyes.

Harry shrugged and joked, “I think something happened that year? It was very busy.”

Draco half snorted and started to smile before he caught himself and schooled his features blank, “There's some sort charm work interlaced with the focus spell, it's a very unique piece. The chain itself looks victorian, pure silver. Anyway,” he tapped his book, “Just search the jewelry sections, skim for transfiguration or cat transformation. It shouldn't take long.”

They went through three books each before Draco found it. Harry could tell the moment that he did, the pages stilled from their rapid turning, a smirk creeping onto his face.

Harry closed his book with a snap and dropped it on the pile, “Did you find it?” 

Draco traced the section with his finger, reading aloud as he went, “The Charlotte Chain was made between eighteen twelve and eighteen fourteen by two witches, Mariban Son and Charlotte Bassil. The two witches were lovers but betrothed to others in matches arranged by their families. In order to stay together, they created the Charlotte Chain which Charlotte Bassil wore and adopted the form of her lover's pet cat while Mariban married her betrothed. They stayed together in this manner until the death of Mariban at age 117, Charlotte was found dead only days later, her true form revealed upon death.” Draco went silent as he skimmed ahead to the more technical information, “Unique but not powerful. Speculation that the enchantment was made permanent by the power of the two women's love... In addition to the cat transfiguration, the chain is charmed so that it can only be seen and removed by someone that wearer trusts-”

Harry felt his face flush.

“-otherwise the chain cannot be seen or touched.” Draco smirked, “Trust me, do you, Potter?”

“I mean, yeah?” Harry said quietly. He wondered if he was just imagining the slight flush of color on the high points of Draco's cheeks.

Draco traced his wand along the edge of the page, cleanly removing it from the book and folding it into a neat square which he handed to Harry, “Congratulations, you were assaulted with a romantic trinket.”

Harry took the paper and stuffed it into his back pocket, “Thanks? Can I have it back now?”

“No.” Draco folded the chain back into his handkerchief and put it in his pocket.

Harry felt his fingers dig into the chair's armrests and forced himself not to react. First, he would find out why and then, still not react. He was pretty much at Draco's mercy in this situation, alone in his room, no one knew where he was _and_ Lucius would be quite amenable to disposing of his body.

“Why?” Harry asked, fairly impressed with his own self-control. It was much easier than controlling his impulses as a cat, that was for certain.

Draco stood, placing his book neatly on the top of the pile and said, “Mipsy?”

The house elf appeared with a crack and stood to attention, her face was absolutely beaming.

“Could you take these books back to the library and then bring up some dinner? Tell mother I won't be able to join her.”

Mispy bowed with a grin, snapped her fingers, the books disappearing and then disapparited with a crack.

“You need to write a letter.” Draco said walking to his desk.

Harry blinked, quite certain he was missing something, “Wait. Aren't you worried Mipsy will tell your father I'm here? And why can't I have the chain back?”

He sighed and gave Harry an impatient look that reminded Harry of his father, “Sometimes you are simply intolerable, Potter.”

Harry pushed himself up out of his chair with a hopeful smile, “Just sometimes?”

“Don't let it go to your head.” Draco said wearily, pulling out his desk chair along with a piece of parchment and a quill. “While you were safely locked away, I gave Mispy clothes, to free her from the Malfoy _family_ and then rebound her to _me_. So, no, she won't be telling father anything.”

“And she was ok with that?” Harry asked, slowly walking over to the desk.

“She was ecstatic. None of the elves like my father very much, even if he's better behaved these days.” Draco added impatiently, “Sit, Potter.”

Harry did and did his best to raise one eyebrow in question. He knew it looked ridiculous.

Draco looked mildly amused, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit, “Tomorrow father is going out to speak with our accountant and broker, he will be out of the house and that would be the safest time for you to leave. Then I will give you your trinket.”

“And why can't I leave now?” Harry asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, “We are wizards, aren't we?”

Draco leaned over the back of the chair slightly so that he loomed over Harry, “This may come as a bit of a shock to you, but my father is exceptionally paranoid.”

Harry did his best not to smile, and mostly failed, “Oh really? I would have never guessed.”

Draco's eyes were shining with his own amusement, “Yes. And after the last muckup he has gotten even worse. The wards might have let a cat in once but he'll have changed them since then and they absolutely won't be amenable to you in any shape you take. There is only one floo in the house that he's left operational and he keeps it closed at all times, it's warded so he'll know if it's opened.”

“So... tomorrow then?”

“Yes. Mispy will assist you.” Draco pressed his fingers to the parchment and slid it closer to Harry, “Now. Write the dysfunctional duo and tell them you're not dead.”

“Oh, ok,” Harry grinned, “Should I tell them anything else? Or will, _I'm not dead_ be good enough?”

Draco sighed and looked up at the ceiling in a heaven-help-me supplicant to an uncaring god, “Don't be difficult, Potter. Tell them you're fine and you'll be back to whatever hovel you live in tomorrow.”

“Right.” Harry picked up the quill and watched Draco out of the corner of his eye as he returned to his armchair when dinner had arrived and smelled amazing. He quickly wrote out a note to Ron and Mione telling them he was fine and would explain everything tomorrow. He folded the message, addressed it and hurried up from his chair, plopping down on the settee next to Draco.

If he had thought the food was good as a cat, it was ten times better as a human. He barely managed to suppress a groan as he took a bite of the roast-meat-something that practically melted in his mouth it was so tender. There was wine too, a red of some kind. Harry knew fuck-all about wines but it wasn't a tough guess that it was very expensive. Harry forced himself to drink it slowly, imitating the way Draco did it, with swirling and careful sips.

The excellent food and two glasses of wine seemed to go straight to Harry's head, filling it with a warm, tipsy tiredness.

“I wouldn't have thought you were such a lightweight, Potter.” Draco scoffed into his wineglass as he took another delicate sip.

Harry's eyes half closed and he slumped back into the settee cushions, watching the way the dark liquid brushed across Draco's thin pale lips, “Not usually. Maybe... the cat thing?” he mumbled.

“And such an articulate drunk, too.” Draco mocked without much venom.

His eyes just seemed too heavy to fight anymore and he let them close with a sigh, “Thanks for...”

“For?” Draco prompted.

Harry yawned, “for not hex'n me and...” He blinked his eyes open for a second and then lost the fight against them and the pull of sleep, “...and for being wonderful...”

“Well, I am that.” Draco said blandly.

And Harry smiled as he slumped over onto the settee and fell asleep.

Things had gone really well,

and in retrospect,

Harry probably should have suspected that Malfoy was up to something.

Someone was shaking him and he woke with a start. Mipsy let go of his shoulder and took a step back.

Harry rubbed his eyes and blinked blurrily. He didn't feel like he had a hangover, no headache or nausea, only a lingering muzziness that he always associated with sleeping potions.

A feeling of dread sunk into his gut and Harry patted around until he found his glasses shoved in the cushions and hurriedly pushed them on.

Mipsy had a piece of parchment in her hands and as he sat up, she held it out to him, looking nervous.

Harry silently took the paper and read Draco's easy flowing script.

“Oh no.” He groaned and looked up from the note.

His eyes snapped to a flicker of movement on the chair beside him, the chair Draco had sat in last night, the chair a large white cat with blue-grey eyes sat in now.

Harry shoved his hands through his hair and groaned, “Really?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thank you for all the comments and support!! It's been amazing!


	6. Chapter 6

  


The cat blinked at him with a look of disdain. Of course, it was just as likely that he was one of those cats that always looked pissed off. Draco had turned into a large-merlin that was fucking annoying- short-haired, white cat with a sharp angular head, large pointed ears, and a long thin tail. His eyes had ended up more blue than grey but otherwise, he was thin, sleek and perfect. Harry couldn't see any sign of curse markings, though as the cat sat up, he thought he glimpsed a blob of grey fur on the back of a front leg where his dark mark was.

Harry read the note Draco had left him again. Basically, Harry owed him for two weeks and if he wanted the chain back, he would have to take Draco with him. The only bright spot in all of this was that Mipsy would take care of all the cat things Draco would need and bring them food from the Manor so Draco wouldn't have to be subjected to the 'swill' Harry ate.

Harry sighed and stood up, stretching and grimacing as a multitude of twinges and aches made themselves known. Turns out, sleeping slumped over on a small settee was absolutely a bad idea, not that he had much choice in the matter.

“Would Harry Potter sir be wanting some breakfast?” Mipsy asked.

“Is Lucius gone?” Harry asked.

Mipsy nodded, “Old master is gone.”

“How did Draco get out of going with him?” Harry asked, he saw Draco's tail twitch at the sound of his name, his ears swinging forward.

“Master said he was sick, he had a fever fudge.” Mipsy said.

Harry nodded and sighed, “You can bring me breakfast once we get to mine yeah?” He held up the note hopefully.

Mipsy nodded, “Yes, sirs!”

“Right then, let's get out of here,” Harry said.

His hand paused on the door handle when he saw a small metal glint and splinter of wood at eye level. He pulled the door open very carefully, his senses keyed up for any sign of magic.

It was a note, pinned the door and said in Draco's small neat handwriting: _I'm gay and I hate finance -D.M._ Really, it was the dagger embedded in the door that best conveyed Draco's thoughts on the whole matter. 

Harry was impressed, the door was solid wood, getting the dagger all the way through would have required a lot of force, magic or physical. He looked down at the white cat, “Very classy.”

Draco lifted his head, looking pleased with himself. 

Harry let Mipsy and Draco lead the way through the manor, heading towards the entry hall and turning at a room just before it. The room was large, and mostly empty aside from a large blazing fireplace. Harry walked over to it and stared at the flames, “The floo isn't left closed most of the time is it?”

Draco looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Right,” Harry said softly. “Well, if you're coming through with me I'll have to carry you.”

Draco's ears flattened.

Harry shrugged, “Your other choice is letting Mipsy apparate you and she would also have to hold you.”

Draco looked between Harry and the house elf sullenly.

Harry wanted to point out that Draco was the one running away from home like a child having a bit of a snit but considered it was probably a bad idea when Draco was now in possession of a very sharp set of claws.

Finally, the cat stood and walked over to him.

Harry bent down and scooped Draco up over his shoulder, he had very sleek fur, it felt like silk. Harry grabbed a bit of floo powder, telling Mipsy his address before tossing the power in and stepping in. Draco instantly dug in his claws.

Harry hissed a snarling mix of almost swears, stumbling out of the floo, Draco jumping off him before Harry could drag him off. “Fucking hell,” Harry hissed, rubbing his stinging shoulder.

“Harry?!” Hermione's voice called out from the drawing room, her footsteps already running out to him. She threw her arms around his neck hugging him tightly, “Thank goodness you're ok!”

Ron was a few steps behind and clapped Harry on the shoulder, leaving his hand there and squeezing gently, “We were right worried about you, mate.”

Hermione finally let him go and Harry felt a pang of guilt at the sight of her drawn and shadowed face. “Sorry to worry you.” He said with a reassuring smile and lead them back into the drawing room plopping down on the largest couch so Ron and Hermione could sit with him. 

The room was dusty, Kreacher rarely did the chores if Harry wasn't there, coating the dark wood and stone in a fine curtain of grey. The furniture was a mismatched assortment of the old antique pieces the house had come with and the plush sofas and chairs Harry picked up when he spotted one he particularly liked. His criteria being mainly if the cushions were soft and deep enough to drown in. Hermione had tried to charm them all the same colour once but instead of red, the first had ended up grey and the next she tried to match to it turned blue, the next green, the only chairs that matched were both a pale purple. Hermione said it was all the latent magic in the house, Harry said it was hilarious. Every piece of furniture had at least one pillow on it, large, cream throw pillows that Harry had found in a shop one day and bought every single one the store had in stock.

The largest room on the main floor had been the formal dining room originally but he had changed it into a sitting room or withdrawing room as Walburga liked to call it. He figured anyone he knew would eat at the basement kitchen table and it seemed like a waste of a room. He left the smaller drawing room on the second floor as it was, though he mostly used it as an office and of course the Black family tapestry was still there. The last real renovations he had gotten to was fixing up the master bedroom to be his bedroom and putting in a door to connect it to the bathroom down the hall. The floor was still marred by talon scratches from Buckbeak.

Hermione sat right beside him, grabbing one of his hands and holding it tightly between her own, “What happened, Harry?”

Ron settled behind his girlfriend, soothingly running his hand up and down her back, “We had half the force out looking for you and couldn't find one bloody clue.”

Harry had given this question some thought earlier and had decided to tell them the truth, mostly. He shrugged, feeling embarrassed all over again, “I was transfigured into a cat.”

Both Ron and Mione's eyes went wide.

Ron gave a short laugh, “Well that's a new one for you.”

Harry returned the laugh, “I know! It's a little surreal when I think about it.”

Hermione squeezed his hand, “You were a cat for two weeks? Why didn't you try to find one of us? Where were you when it happened? Did anyone try to hurt you?”

“Mione.” Harry held up a hand to stop her and squeezed her hand back, answering slowly, “I was in Diagon Alley. No one tried to hurt me. I didn't look for help because I was, um, well, I was too cat, just living in the moment sort of thing. I never would've left you to worry if I'd been able to think right.”

She nodded, “But you are ok? A transfiguration that complicated and long lasting would have required tremendous power.”

Harry said, “I was in the middle of a crowd when it happened and spooked right after. I'm not sure who changed me but they didn't come looking for me afterward or lost track of me before they could. Either way, I'm fine.”

“Have you gone to St. Mungo's?” Hermione asked, “You should have them check you for any lingering curses or charms.”

“I'm fine, 'Mione,” Harry protested.

Hermione clamped down on his hand like a vise, “No! Harry James Potter, _promise me_ you'll go. This is serious. The amount of power involved- You can't just brush it off!”

Harry hesitated.

She tugged at his hand, “Promise me.”

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “I promise.”

Hermione relaxed and Harry was able to tug his hand free.

He rubbed it gingerly, “I suppose I can go after I check in with Robards.”

“You're gonna go in to the office?” Ron asked.

“Yeah?” Harry shrugged, “Eat some breakfast, see Robards-” his ticked off each thing on his fingers, “-go to Mungo's, grab some lunch and get back to the office for a half day at least.”

Ron's eyebrows shot up, “You're going to go in and work?!”

Harry blinked and then stiffened, “They haven't let Justin do any of the filing have they?” Harry asked in alarm, “The last time I was off sick they let him do the filing and the little twit completely ruined my system, it took me weeks to get it sorted again.”

“I dunno,” Ron said a little bewildered, “It's just filing?”

“I have a system,” Harry muttered, running his hand through his hair.

Ron brightened up, “Y'know with all this mess I think we can push Robards to get you back out in the field. You're just rusty. If you were out more and had more field time no one would ever sneak up on you like that again.”

Harry's brow furrowed, “I like filing.”

“Good one, mate!” Ron laughed.

“I said, _I like filing_.” Harry said with a frown, “So shove off, alright? How about, _I_ tell you if _I_ want to go back out in the field?”

Ron blinked.

Hermione looked slightly puzzled, “Maybe you should go to Mungo's before the office, Harry. Please. You seem... You're behaving differently.” She stood up abruptly, “In fact, I'll go with you right now, we can grab something from that cafe across from the hospital for breakfast.”

Harry sighed and looked at Ron shrugged, still faintly confused. 

Hermione ushered them back to the floo, unwilling to let Harry apparate until she was certain he was ok. Ron waved him off and Harry let himself be shepherded by to Mungo's where he was poked and prodded by a general healer and then by two specialists who all declared him to be in perfect health. They went back to the Ministry together. Before Harry got off on his floor Hermione fussed over him, promising to drop by with Ron again later that night.

He went level two and was immediately surrounded by the aurors still in the office and was fussed over again, albeit in Ron fashion, with back slaps and shoulder squeezes. Robards gave him a lecture that Harry completely tuned out, it had lots of constant vigilance and awareness of his position in it and, honestly, Harry didn't care. 

When he got back to his desk, he discovered that Justin hadn't done any filing, which was good, only no one had done any filing, which was a bit shit. His desk was covered in drifts and piles of folders and forms. Harry spent the rest of the day sorting it out and organizing it so he could get started the next day. 

Harry hadn't seen Draco when he left that morning but he didn't have to look for him when he got back home since the little bastard bit him as soon as he stepped inside.

Harry hissed in pain, hopping away from the furry white creature of pure vindictive spite, “What was that for?!” he snapped.

Draco's tail lashed back and forth furiously and his ears were laid back flat.

Harry groaned and pulled off his glasses so he could rub his face and then put them back on with a sigh, “Was it because of Ron and Hermione?” Tail still lashing, “Because of breakfast?” The tail lashing was getting more furious and Harry took a step back, “Because I left?” Draco's ears flicked up and he relaxed somewhat but was still agitated, “Er...because I left you alone?” he tried.

He watched Draco nod -which was completely disconcerting coming from a cat- and headed back into the house. Harry followed from a good distance back. 

Mipsy brought dinner and a stool for Draco to stand on. Harry just watched the white cat with interest. For Harry, being a cat had been effortless and quite nice but watching Draco, he seemed to be fighting it constantly. He'd do something very cat-like and then stop himself and look annoyed. He nodded and shook his head and despised eating off the plate like, well, like a cat. He spent the whole evening tense, with his tail constantly switching back and forth and his ears laid back flat.

Harry plopped down on his huge green sofa, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. The room had been cleaned, whether by Kreacher or Mipsy he didn't know, it was still too dark, though, even with all the lights on in the room. Harry stared at the heavy velvet curtains and suddenly wondered how the room would look with sheer, gauzy curtains and white carpets. He wondered if the old house would be willing to take a few coats of paint or a wood brightening spell.

Draco jumped onto the other end of the sofa, laying down stiffly.

Harry glanced over at him, “It's not what you thought it would be, huh?”

Draco narrowed his eyes.

“Being a cat, I mean.” Harry quickly added, “You seem like you're fighting it pretty hard.”

Draco sniffed an looked away.

Harry grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, “I mean, I'm all for your rebellion, since your dad's being a bit of a pillock, but I'm not sure the cat thing was such a great plan.”

Draco was still refusing to look at him.

“All I'm saying is, um, I mean, I would've let you crash here if you had asked.” Harry finished lamely, aware that he was perilously close to rambling.

The look Draco gave him then was something Harry would classify as condescending disbelief. It was an expression cats did very well.

Harry glared back at him, trying to decide what to say when he felt the wards shift as someone came through the floo, announcing Hermione and, a beat later, Ron.

“In here!” Harry called not bothering to get up.

Draco flattened his ears and jumped off the sofa as the two came in the room.

“You have a cat?” Hermione asked, watching as Draco slunk to the back of the room, hiding under a particularly creaky leather chair.

Harry hesitated on the automatic yes, not wanting another bloody ankle, “Sort of?”

“Sort of?” Ron parroted dropping down onto the chair opposite, “How do you sort of have a cat?”

“...He took care of me the two weeks I was a cat and I wanted to return to favor but he's not really a house cat.” Harry said with absolute honesty, “He tolerates me, mostly.”

Hermione was still watching him, “He's rather big, do you suppose he has some kneazle in him?”

Harry laughed, “Well, he is smart.”

“You should get him to a vet as soon as possible.” Hermoine said finally sitting down on the couch beside Harry.

Harry smiled at Hermione fondly, “Yeah, O'course.”

She sighed and shook her head slightly in exasperation, “How are you doing? I really wish you had taken a few days off, being a cat for two weeks and then going right back to work, it can't be healthy, mentally speaking.”

“It's fine.” Harry shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes slightly and leaned forward, “Are you sure?”

“Honestly?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Then, honestly, it was like a vacation. I've never been more relaxed in my life. I'd highly recommend the experience,” Harry said.

She frowned slightly and sat back, chewing her bottom lip, “I suppose. That might explain why you're acting differently.”

Ron said supportively, “Cat's are always sleeping and lazing about, must've been like a two week lie-in.”

Harry nodded, “It was a bit like that.”

“The filing thing is a bit strange though.” Ron said, “I didn't think you cared for it. I mean, who likes filing when you could be out working a case?”

Hermione sat forward, “See! That's what I mean!”

“But I felt like that before,” Harry said, squeezing the pillow, “I just never said anything.”

Hermione scooted closer on the couch and Harry could tell she was very close to the hand holding comfort stage, “Why did you never say anything about it before? Did you think we wouldn't understand? Because we're your friends, Harry and we'd never-”

Harry stopped her with a wave of his hand, “I know, I know,” He assured her, “I was just... stuck? And now, everything seems much more straight forward.”

“Is there anything else you haven't been telling us?” Hermione asked, reaching her hand out and pressing it to his arm.

Ron half rolled his eyes, though Harry knew he never would've dared to if Hermione had been looking and said, “Leave off, Mione. He'll tell us if he wants to.”

Harry wondered if he was supposed to pour out his tortured soul at this point or just laugh it off with a joke. He didn't know what they were expecting from him either way. It did seem like a good opportunity to get something off his chest, “Well, I am bisexual.” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Hermione seemed only mildly surprised.

Ron made a faint strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Harry narrowed his eyes, “What were you expecting me to say?”

Hermione and Ron looked at one another and had some sort of telepathic couple argument that involved a lot of body language and exaggerated looks. Ron lost.

Hermione plunged ahead, “First off, we're both very supportive of you and whomever you wish to date Harry.” She glanced over at Ron who was completely out of his emotional depth, not that that took a lot of doing, and no help whatsoever. She took a deep breath and jumped right in, taking Harry's hand in hers as she spoke, “We'd been meaning to bring this up before, the thing is, you don't seem very happy.”

Harry blinked and looked down at Hermione's hand. He grinned and laughed, pulling Hermione into a hug and squeezing her tightly, “Thanks.” He looked over to Ron feeling lighter than he had in years, “You guys are the best.”

Hermione slowly wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sighed, “What are we going to do with you Harry Potter?”


	7. Chapter 7

  


Harry slowly blinked awake, his eyes adjusting the darkened room and slipping out of the fog of sleep. He knew from experience that it would be ten or fifteen minutes before his alarm spell was set to go off and let his eyes half close again, enjoying the warmth of the blankets. There was something else, something new and it took a while for his mind to catch up and focus in on the ball of warmth curled against the back of his neck and shoulder. If he shifted slightly he could even feel the short silk fur. 

He wasn't sure what to make of it really. After Ron and Hermione had left the night before Draco had stalked out of the room and disappeared somewhere. Harry had called after him and looked in a few rooms but the white cat was nowhere to be seen.

The alarm spell went off and Draco immediately slid off the side of the bed, making almost no sound as he landed on the floor and padded out the door. Harry waited a beat to make sure he was gone before sitting up and stretching, his hand going to the back of his neck and lingering over the trace of warmth Draco had left behind.

Harry got ready for work and went down to breakfast, sitting beside a white cat on a stool and pretending it was completely normal. He tried to talk a little, the way Draco had talked to him, but it was... strange. Maybe it would be easier if he thought Draco was a real cat or if he had been a real person who could talk back.

When Harry headed for the front door, Draco raced ahead of him, blocking his path to leave.

Harry sighed as he buttoned on his auror robes and ruffled his hair, “I _am_ going to go to work.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and made a long mournful _meurrrrow_ then recoiled at the sound of his own voice, going almost cross-eyed looking down his own nose.

Harry tried not to laugh, looking up at the ceiling to hid his grin. Once he had regained control of himself Harry offered, “I suppose you could come to work with me?”

Draco seemed to consider this and then nodded solemnly.

Harry sighed, “Alright, just let me get something.” He jogged back to the drawing room and grabbed one of the pillows that had been almost squashed flat, shrinking it and stuffing it into his pocket as he returned. He opened the door and let Draco go through first, following behind and resetting the wards once he was outside.

Harry knelt down and held out his hands optimistically.

Draco immediately sat down, his ears flattening.

“Come on.” Harry rolled his eyes, “It's too far to walk.”

The glaring continued.

Harry dropped his hands and raised his eyebrows, “I can just leave you out here.”

Draco's tail lashed and then, in what seemed like a single languid movement, jumped from the sidewalk onto Harry's shoulder. His claws catching in Harry's thick auror cloak and carefully stretching himself across Harry's neck. A few carefully placed claws to keep him in place and he seemed quite content, letting out a long breath.

Harry stood carefully resisting the urge to grab hold of the cat's legs. It was a bit like having a living stole; a heavy, wobbly stole that could dig in its claws at any moment.

“Alright. Hold on.” He cautiously pressed his hand over Draco's hip as he apparated them to the ministry. They made it in one piece and Draco had managed not to lacerate Harry in panic. 

The office was mostly empty when Harry stepped off the lift. Everyone was likely still in the morning debriefing and Harry was immensely grateful. He hurried past the cubicles to his desk on the back wall in front of a line of mismatched filing cabinets.

Harry took the pillow out of his pocket and unshrunk it, “Alright, where-?”

Draco slid off his shoulder and stepped delicately onto his desk, turning slowly and then tapping on the corner with one paw.

“I don't suppose you'd rather sit under my desk out of sight?” Harry asked hopefully.

Draco pawed the same spot and glared at Harry.

Harry sighed and quickly moved his files to the other side of the desk and sat the pillow down on his left side. Draco sat down, turning to watch Harry.

Harry dropped into his chair, ditching his robe and letting them fall over the back of the old rolling chair where they were certain to slither onto the floor by the end of the day. “First things first. Are you going to bite someone if they try to touch you?” Harry asked.

Draco's tail lashed back and forth.

“I'll take that as a yes.” Harry said softly, pulling out a scrap of parchment and writing on it in bold, red ink, _Don't touch me! I Bite!_ He underlined the second sentence for good measure and spellotaped it to the front of Draco's cushion. 

Apparently pleased, Draco lay down facing Harry, his front feet draped over the edge of his pillow. 

Harry grabbed the first folder from his stack and pulled it in front of him. He skimmed the report of a minor robbery from last week, ran a spell-o-check charm on it, changing all the obvious typos.

Feeling Draco's eyes on him he explained quietly, “All cases come to me after they're finished to be filed for a year before being transferred to Admin services.” He paused, focusing on the file and pressing the tip of his wand to it and said a quick charm. A small blue circle appeared on the tab of the manila folder, “That is a magical time signature that will slowly decay over the course of a year. And this...” The tip of his tongue peeked out over his bottom lip as he overlaid a charm onto the mark, making a small neat notation in white, “...will show the date of filing. The color of the mark shows the concern of the case in question.” He half turned in his chair and flicked his wand at the minor crimes filing cabinet, opening the drawer for robberies. The drawer that slid out two meters and the file carefully put itself away near the back with a deft twist of his wand. The drawer slid shut and Harry smiled with pride.

The grabbed the next folder continuing to talk quietly as he worked, “I don't send _all_ files down to admin though. I like to keep any that might be useful to later cases, trafficking, illegal potion sales, that sort of thing.” He frowned that file in front of him, it was one of Leontrang's cases, and he had penmanship worse than a healer. Harry cast his own modified version of the spell-o-check charm that had a neatening charm interlaced with it. The awful chicken scratch began to stretch out like a wadded note uncrumpling. The result wasn't the neatest handwriting in the world but it was _legible_ and compared to before that was a massive improvement.

Draco's ears flicked forward and leaned slightly closer to watch. 

“It's my own charm.” Harry said proudly, then shook his head, saying deprecatingly, “I'm more proud of creating a handwriting neatening charm than I am of killing Voldemort. Pretty fucked up, huh?”

Draco tilted his head to the side in a silent question.

Harry closed the file, running his hand down the smooth manila, “It was always prophesized that I would kill Voldemort. Since I was a baby fate pushed me down that path.” He said softly, “I mean, I rose to meet it, I wouldn't say it was easy or that anyone could do it but that charm. It's... ” He looked up at Draco's blue-grey eyes, “Well, it's like your garden. It's something I made all on my own. It's all my doing and that means a lot more to me.”

Draco blinked at him slowly.

Harry smiled weakly and ducked his head, finished putting on the other spells and filed the case away. Time seemed to pass quickly as he worked, it always did when he had a lot to do. He hadn't always been good at it. He wasn't good at studying and sitting still, it had taken him a long time and a lot of trial and error to learn how to do the job and with learning the job came satisfaction. It was simple satisfaction, it didn't have the adrenaline rush of an auror sting or helping someone in need but it also didn't have the low points either, the anxiety, fear, anger or discomfort. Maybe, some day, he would want something else from his life, but for right now this was exactly what he needed.

Over the course of the morning, a few aurors who hadn't seen him yesterday came by to chat with Harry. One was stupid enough to try and pet Draco and got a bloody finger for their trouble but it was junior auror Justin fucked-with-the-filing O'Neil, so Harry couldn't bring himself to care overmuch.

Lunch time rolled around and Harry stood up with a groan, stretching out his shoulders, “Lunch. I usually eat out so I guess you'll be on your own for a bit.”

Draco glared at him, his tail starting to flick in irritation.

“Sorry, sorry!” Harry said waving his hands, “I'll pack a lunch tomorrow, promise.”

Somewhat mollified Draco dropped his head back down onto his pillow and closed his eyes. 

Harry waved to Ron on the way out, asking him to make sure no one bothered his cat, and getting a strange look for his trouble, before he got on the lift. He was headed to the apparition point when he spotted the back of a familiar head lurking in the atrium. Impulsively, he decided to chance Draco's wrath and headed over to the black-haired young woman in the nineteen sixties, midnight blue cocktail dress.

“Pansy Parkinson?” Harry asked.

She spun on her heel, her mouth opened in a little _O_ of surprise that she quickly hid under an expression of delighted interest, “Harry Potter! _How_ have you been doing?”

“Lovely, thanks.” Harry said with a slightly bemused smile.

“It's ever so wonderful to see you again. I do hope we can put all that nasty business from school behind us.” Pansy said twirling a lock of hair around her finger and smiling sweetly.

“Sure.” Harry shrugged, “I've been curious to talk to you anyway.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly, “Oh, really?”

Harry nodded, “You're the writer for Witch Weekly's rumor and gossip page right?”

Her mouth pursed for a moment but she tried to cover it with a smile, “It's a living. I'm sure you have no interest in such nonsense.”

“I hated it in school but that was only because all the stupid rumors seemed to be about me.” Harry laughed.

Pansy scoffed, “The world hardly revolves around you,” she sucked in a breath, quickly backpedaling, “I mean, that's just-”

“When you're young didn't you always think the world revolved around you?” Harry joked, “I'm pretty sure it's a requirement for being a teenager.”

Pansy smiled coyly and took half a step towards him, half laughing and resting a hand on his arm, “We _were_ all so silly, weren't we?”

“Yes,” Harry glanced towards the door, “I was actually headed to lunch, would you like to join me? We could catch up.”

Pansy's eyes widened briefly and she leaned against his arm, a glint in her eye that looked _very_ Slytherin.

Harry rolled his eyes and imagined how Draco would respond, putting on his best posh accent, “Good grief, Parkinson, I meant as friends,” he drawled, “Honestly.”

She pulled away slightly, her brow furrowing as she looked up at him.

Harry laughed, “Come on, then. I know a little muggle place just outside wizarding London.” He waved for her to follow and went to the apparition zone. He didn't bother turning around as she rushed to catch up, and held out his arm to side-along her.

Her grip was hesitant so he looked down and smiled. She seemed even more thrown by that but squeezed his arm tightly and he apparated them to an alley just around the corner of one of his favorite little sandwich shop and guided her along.

They sat at one of the tables in a corner away from the window and the door. Harry preferred muggle shops to avoid reporters but occasionally they still managed to follow him to places like this and he had learned to be careful. In addition, once they had their food, Harry cast a wandless muffliato under the table. It had taken him months to get the hang of that one and he was still furiously proud of it.

Harry dug into his sandwich with gusto while Pansy ate haltingly, pausing between bites to stare at him, assessing him.

She finally decided to speak and Harry couldn't have been less surprised with her choice of topic, “How's auror work then, Potter? Just like the good old days running about defeating evil?” she picked at the other half of her sandwich, “Secret missions and daring rooftop chases?” she said in a joking tone that Harry didn't buy for a second.

In a way her questions seemed almost innocent in comparison to some of the manipulative fuckers he'd ended up dealing with over the years. It was depressing how many of the worst seemed to be drawn to politics and news reporting. For all her gossip prowess at school, Pansy sniffed around like a novice reporter.

He smiled genially, “Wouldn't know.”

She blinked and tried again, “There's no need to be modest, Harry darling, everyone knows what you've done for the wizarding world.”

He was still garbage at dealing with the career politicians but a pup like Pansy was easy enough to steer, “I've been in charge of all the filing for the Auror's department for over a year now. They don't even let me rescues kneazles from trees.”

Her eyes lit up with the information.

Harry went on mercilessly, “I read all every case to go through the department. Some of the things people get up to, I mean Hughstone-” he stopped suddenly and did his best to look uncertain, shaking his head, “best not. I'd lose my job if anyone found out I'd been blabbing.”

Pansy smiled sweetly, “What's a secret between friends?” she reached across the table to touch his arm. Her nail polish matched her dress and Harry admired it with a faint smile as he planned his next move.

Slytherin's danced around one another and Gryffindor's rushed straight in. Harry had come to prefer a mix of the two, mostly because he was too impatient for delicate, drawn out Slytherin dances. He leaned forward slightly, “I might be willing to share some of the more interesting cases that cross my desk but I'm afraid can only do so if I remain an anonymous source. That means my private life is off the table. Any articles about Harry Potter and the well runs dry, Pansy.”

The hand on his arm twitched.

He continued, “My life is actually quite boring and there are maybe a half dozen reporters who are assigned to do nothing other than watch my every move. One more fish in the pond just muddies the water. Besides, they'd eat you alive.”

Pansy bristled at this and slid her hand away, “I'm as good a reporter as anyone.”

“I'd say you've got less than a year's experience and you get most of your information by sucking up to gossipy old shop ladies,” Harry said pointedly and smiled when her face pinked with rage, “I've been dealing with reporters since I was eleven. You still have a lot to learn.”

“You're so damn full of yourself!” Pansy said furiously pointing her finger at him, “You wouldn't know a good news story if it bit you in the arse, Potter!” 

Harry shrugged, “Maybe not but I do know that Geraint Hughstone was caught inflagranti with someone who was not his wife and it lead to quite an interesting situation.” He sat back in his chair and watched the warring emotions on Pansy's face, smiling slightly and enjoying himself immensely.

Pansy leaned forward, slapping her palm on the table, “What do you want?”

Harry smiled, “...To get know you, friendship, that sort of thing. I know better than to try without something to offer you.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I've dealt with a lot of Slytherins over the past couple years.”

“You think we're cheap whores?” She said cooly.

Harry laughed, “No! Merlin, no.”

Pansy lifted her chin with a sniff of disdain, “Oh, but you _can_ buy our friendship.”

“More like barter,” Harry said calmly, “but it's a fair exchange isn't it? I have something you want, you have something I want and then, maybe, we can build a friendship off the foundation.”

She tapped her nails on the table impatiently, “What's the catch? The _real_ catch because what you're offering me is a lot better than what I'm offering you. Only an idiot would miss that.”

Harry hesitated. The real catch was a little hazy even to him. He had started talking to her on a whim, mostly because of how he had seen how she was with Draco. 

Her nails tapping a staccato on the table got steadily louder.

He scratched his cheek and admitted sheepishly, “Um... I was also hoping to- I'd like to be friends with Draco too.”

Pansy sucked in a breath and leaned forward, her eyes glittering with wicked glee, “You-! You're-! Wait.” She sat back abruptly and narrowed her eyes, “Is this your stalking thing again? Because I will hex your head up your arse if it is.”

Harry shook his head and said vaguely, “I just want to get to know him better.”

Pansy brushed her hair back as she leaned forward again and said quietly, “But do you _fancy_ him, Potter?”

“I-um” Harry rubbed his neck, his face flushing hot, “That's not something I can say, can I?” He said quietly, not looking her in the eye, “You're a reporter and-”

“Oh.” She let out a breath and clapped her hands together with a tiny squeal of delight, “You _do_! You _do_! Praise, Merlin and Morgana both!” She dragged her chair beside his and grabbed his hands in a surprisingly strong viselike grip, “You're both idiots so this will be unnecessarily difficult but I'm going to do everything in my power to help you out,” She said with grave sincerity.

Harry almost laughed from sheer shock, “Err? You want to help?”

“Of course I do,” She patted his hands, “Not for your sake, you understand. You're just the only thing that's ever held Draco's attention. You're exactly what he needs to shake him out of this horrible-” She flicked her hand like she was trying to shake off something disgusting, “-funk he's in.”

“I have to say, that certainly sweetens the pot,” Harry said still a little bewildered.

Pansy perked up, flipped her hair with a practiced ease, “Ok, so I'll tell you everything he likes-”

Harry glanced at the clock on the back wall of the cafe, “I have to be back to work in fifteen minutes, you know.”

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes, “Fine.” She pulled a small green notebook studded with rhinestones and a muggle looking pen, “I need something big for this week's issue so first tell me about the Hughstones and then I can tell you how to get close to Draco.”

Harry nodded and looked up as he recalled the case from last month. The family had kept the whole thing quiet for the most part and Harry had been dying to tell someone what had happened, “Well... Mr. Hughstone was caught by his wife in bed with their son's tutor-”

“No!” Pansy gasped.

“Yes.” Harry grinned, “That's not even the best part.”

Pansy's eyes sparkled, “You're shitting me, it gets better?”

He leaned in conspiratorially, “The tutor, was also _Mrs_. Hughstone's secret lover of two years.”

Pansy's pen almost tore through the paper she was writing so fast.

Harry went on, “Their son had to call the Aurors because they were all trying hex the living shit out of one another...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Harry and Pansy being friends almost as much as I love the idea of Draco and Luna being friends, it's just such an odd wonderful mix.  
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! You've all just been absolutely fantastic!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a double chapter because I couldn't stand to cut it in two. So... I really hope you like it.

Draco leaned forward with interest as Harry plopped back behind his desk. Harry had brought him the other half of Pansy's unfinished sandwich and set about removing the chicken breast from the less meaty sandwich elements.

He didn't really notice Draco standing up and taking a few steps forward, sniffing his hand and sleeve more closely until Draco sneezed, quite loudly.

Harry looked up from the shredded chicken, grabbing a napkin and wiping his hands, “Hungry?”

Draco glared at him, flattening his ears and returned to his cushion. He lay back down, facing away from Harry and refused to look at him. He wouldn't eat either and Harry reluctantly vanished the food, deciding to pack a lunch from Mipsy tomorrow that would be more to Draco's tastes. Draco didn't look at him the rest of the day and once they returned to Grimmwauld that night he disappeared once again, only reappearing briefly for dinner. Harry wondered if he had once again done something to make Draco mad at him again but as he lay in bed that night, going over the day in his mind, he couldn't figure out what it could be. He decided it had to have been the fact that he had left for lunch without him.

He woke, laying on his back with a fickle cat curled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Harry stared up at the ceiling, feeling Draco breath beside him and desperately wished it was the human Draco instead. Harry slipped a hand up and carefully let his fingers glide through Draco's fur. He wondered if Draco's hair would feel the same way. 

He felt, rather than heard, Draco start purring, a faint rumble that tickled his ear. Harry smiled and continued to pet the white cat until his alarm went off. As he reached over for his wand Draco slid off the bed and left without a backward glance. Harry felt somehow like he shouldn't mention what had happened so he didn't, joining Draco for breakfast just as he had the day before.

Draco jumped on Harry's shoulder again and went to work and it all felt somewhat surreal, this new normal he found himself in. It was set to be another deliciously boring day at work when he received two memos, the paper airplanes landing neatly on his desk only a half a minute apart.

The first was from Minister Shacklebolt, asking Harry to drop by his office as soon as was convenient. The second memo was from the front desk and informed him that he had a Miss Pansy Parkinson waiting in the atrium to speak with him.

Harry flattened them both out on the desk in front of him, “Pansy first.” he said to himself, “She's not someone to keep waiting. Unless you're you,” he looked at Draco pointedly.

As he stood up, Draco also stood, jumping onto the floor beside him. Draco didn't bother giving Harry any sort of look, he was coming and Harry had no say in the matter.

Harry shrugged, walking to the lift with a cat stalking at his side.

Pansy was standing by the front desk, her arms crossed in front of herself and looking more irritated than normal. She was wearing full-length formal robes in Slytherin green and looked uncomfortable, like they itched, or made her skin crawl.

“Pansy?” Harry asked, picking up his pace as he walked over.

“Finally!” She snipped, letting her arms drop.

The secretary rose behind the tall counter in the middle of the atrium, “Mr. Potter, she insisted that she knew you but I can call someone to escort her out-”

Pansy practically snarled at the young man.

Harry stopped her with a raised hand and gave the secretary his best are-you-stupid look, “ _She's_ fine,” He said pointedly causing the young man to flush and stutter an apology.

Pansy took Harry's arm and lifted her nose with a sniff, “Yes, why don't you get back to answering owls or whatever it is you do.” she said haughtily.

They walked over to the side of the hall and Pansy cast a quick privacy spell, “I have _got_ to get out of these clothes so I'll make this quick,” she said, “I won't be able to do lunch tomorrow.”

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked.

“Oh, fine,” she waved a hand dismissively, “Don't get all Gryffindor on me now.”

Harry sighed with a smile, “Seemed serious if you couldn't just send an owl. What happened then?”

“Draco's run off.” Pansy said.

“Oh.” Harry sucked in a breath and remembered that this should be a lot more shocking than it was and leaned forward, “Where? Why?”

“Why's easy, his father's a _prick_. I don't know where, though.” She said irritably, “I got an owl yesterday from him and it just says he's decided to leave on his own for a while. The most useless, stupid, fucking letter-” She paused mid-rant and took a deep breath, going on more calmly, “I just went to see Narcissa and see if he told her where he ran off to but no luck. Draco left her a letter too but it's just as useless.”

“I'm sure he's fine.” Harry reassured her, forcing himself not to look down at Draco.

“Of course he's fine” Pansy sneered, “I'm just pissed he ran off by himself, two damn days ago and didn't even tell me till yesterday. He could've roomed with Blaise and I or at least _told us_ _where he was_. Merlin, I am going to throttle that boy when I find him.” She pulled at the sleeves of her robe, “ _And_ until I do we'll have to put our plans on hold. You've turned out to be terribly interesting, darling, but you're not a priority.”

“Oh. I see.” Harry said faintly.

“Yes, well we both know Draco's your priority as well-”

Harry blushed, fixing his gaze on Pansy and absolutely not looking down at any white cats nearby.

“-Be useful and ask around about him would you?” She patted his arm in a way that could have been comforting but felt mildly condescending, “Just so you _know_ , I didn't send an owl because I had an errand in the neighborhood. You should feel privileged.”

“Uh, alright.” Harry said with a rueful smile.

“Owl me if you hear anything. And we're still on for next week. I'll need a story after all. Ta, Darling!” She said with a wave, her heels clicking across the polished marble.

“ Sure, Pansy,” Harry said to her retreating back. Once she was out of sight, he let himself fall back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath as he enjoyed the feeling of the cold tile on his back. He opened his eyes when he felt a tug on the bottom of his jeans.

Draco had hooked his claws into the hem and was pulling on them with an expression that said very clearly _explain_.

Harry slid down the wall until he was crouched in front of Draco. He was still taller than the white cat but somehow Draco still managed to look down on him imperiously. It was a skill Harry envied.

“I ran into Pansy on the way to lunch yesterday and, err,” he scratched his cheek, “manipulated her into eating lunch with me.”

Draco's eyes narrowed and his tail lashed back and forth angrily.

“It's just, when she was with you I thought she was rather interesting and that I wouldn't mind being her friend.” He gestured helplessly and blushed in embarrassment as he tried to explain himself to a cat in public. Anyone who saw him would think he was a complete berk. Thank Merlin Pansy had left her privacy spell up, “We're just trading information right now, um, for her gossip column and my... because,” Harry finished lamely, the last vestiges of his pride unwilling to admit he was trading for information on the person sitting right in front of him.

“That was clever, sending owls after you'd already left. You must have had Mipsy do it? Anyway,” He stood abruptly and brushed off his jeans, suddenly wishing he had had the foresight to bring his auror robes, “Kingsly's waiting.” He took off briskly, once again avoiding looking at Draco so he wouldn't embarrass himself any more than he already had.

When he reached the minister's office he only had to wait a few moments before Kingsley pulled the door open and ushered him inside.

Harry halfway expected something like Robard's lecture about getting transfigured. Instead, Kingsley seemed distracted as he sat back behind his desk and gestured for Harry to take a seat. Harry felt Draco slide under the wooden chair, a faint warm presence behind his legs.

Kingsley held up a stack of forms and waved them briefly before letting them drop back onto his desk, “These,” He said gravely, “are complaint forms. Anonymous ways for employees in the ministry to make their voice heard without risking any backlash.”

Harry felt his stomach drop and nodded, “I'm familiar with them.”

“And all of these are complaints about you being benched,” He tapped the stack.

Harry sighed and slumped back in his chair.

“No one signs up for the job expecting to be permanently strapped to a desk but I'm in a fine mess when it comes to you, Harry. As this last incident has once again shown it's too dangerous to allow you out in the field.” He tapped his finger heavily on his desk and sighed, “...I have been considering special allowances for regular polyjuice usage-”

“No!” Harry interrupted and quickly added, “No, thank you. I'd rather not.”

“I can understand not wanting to use polyjuice-”

“Sir. It's not about the polyjuice. I don't want to go back out in the field,” Harry said.

Kingley's finger stopped tapping.

Harry felt Draco press against the back of his legs and went on a little more confidently, “I know it's a bit, er, unusual but I rather like being in charge of the Auror department's filing. I'd like to stay where I am.”

“You're sure?” Kingsley asked.

Harry nodded fervently.

Kingsley only hesitated and then nodded, picked up the bundle of forms and vanished them without fuss. “Good to know. Feel free to tell me if you ever change your mind and we'll figure something out.”

“Thank you, Kingsley.” Harry said with a genuine smile.

They both stood and Kingsley held his hand out and Harry shook it firmly.

And that was that, Harry thought, a little bewildered as he headed back to the lift. He wondered what he had been so worried about before.

The rest of the week was fairly simple and calm. Harry caught up with most of the filing that had accumulated during his little vacation. He went home where he would either eat with Draco or with Hermione and Ron, once at Grimmauld and once at their apartment. Draco didn't follow Harry when he went to Ron and Hermione's apartment and he did his best to ignore how this made him feel, especially since it was a complicated feeling and he wasn't keen on unpacking those at the best of times.

Harry spent his evenings in the sitting room curled up on a couch near the fire, reading a magazine or a novel and, if it was just the two of them, Draco would lay next to Harry pressed along his thigh, and Harry would pet him as he read aloud. Every time it happened seemed so fragile and tentative, Harry was certain that he would break it with a single misplaced word or touch, and at the same time it felt very easy, like the easiest thing he had ever done.

Harry was feeling especially optimistic when he woke up friday, thinking he might take Draco to the park for the weekend. He stretched and Draco mirrored the movement, his angular head nuzzled into Harry's hair. Draco started purring as soon as Harry reached up to run his fingers along Draco's back. 

His hand froze as it brushed something smooth and metallic around Draco's neck. He let his fingertips settle on top of the chain, his heart pounding and went to slip his hand under the silver-

His alarm spell went off.

Harry's hand twitched away and Draco stood and jumped off the bed in a single fluid movement. Harry grabbed his wand, just barely resisting the urge to throw it against the wall in frustration. He pressed his hands over his eyes and clenched his jaw, taking deep breaths until he didn't feel like he was going to throttle something.

He threw on the first clothes he pulled out of his dresser and stumbled sourly downstairs to the kitchen. Draco was waiting for him at the table just like always, looking at him curiously, no chain on his neck. Harry sat down and picked at his food suddenly feeling exhausted.

As if reflecting his mood, the sky over London was grey and threatening rain. The office was fuller than normal as aurors worked to finish and submit their reports and paperwork before the weekend. Harry expected to have an all new stack of poorly written and misspelled case files on his desk by the end of the day and threw himself into the remaining files he had from the last two weeks. The tedium did a lot to soothe his nerves but not the feeling of tiredness.

The day wasn't done fucking with him yet though.

  


* * *

  


Ever since Harry had been put in charge of filing, there were times when a civilian would end up standing in front of his desk. They always stood the same way and Harry had come to recognize them at a glance. They were stiff but almost twitchy in their movements, that seemed like hesitation at first but Harry had learned to recognize as frustration and, usually, barely contained rage.

These were the people no one wanted to deal with. The front desk sent them to the second level, the first auror they met sent them to their superior, who gave them forms and sent them to the most junior auror. That auror wouldn't know what to do and would send the person to a different superior who would then tell them they couldn't help or they had the wrong forms and so on. If they didn't manage to chase the person off, they would always end up in front of Harry's desk.

Dealing with the angry ones, the ones who felt slighted or needed a mind healer more than an auror was not fun. It was a bit like untangling a miscast curse and hoping it didn't explode in his face but with substantially more swearing involved.

Then there were the other ones. The civilians who came to his desk so fraught with anxiety it rolled off them in waves. Those were the people who were badly treated by the system; shunted from department to department, auror to auror without getting the help they needed. There were many reasons why, but none of them were good.

The legs that stopped in front of Harry's desk that late afternoon were especially stiff, as if the person they belonged to was holding themselves still with every drop of willpower they had. 

Harry looked up and blinked, his mind going blank from shock.

Lucius Malfoy was holding a form between his hands, with that special grip of the desperate that creased the paper, like that single piece of parchment was the edge of a cliff. 

Lucius's face was a mask and would have been unreadable to most, but watching Draco had let Harry intuit what the older man was feeling, frustration as per usual, anxiety, embarrassment and... Harry watched as a flash movement from nearby Lucius caused his eyes to flicker, a touch of fear. No doubt being in the ministry again was no easy task when the last time he would have been inside the building was for his trial.

Sleeping on his pillow, Draco hadn't noticed Lucius approach.

Harry sat his quill down, closed the file he had been checking and carefully set it to the side, and then, in his most detached and professional voice, said, “How may I help you, Mr. Malfoy?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco's sleepy movements still and a single ear flick back towards Lucius.

“Potter.” Lucius said stiffly, when this got no response he cleared his throat faintly, holding out his crumpled form, “I was told this was the wrong form.”

Harry gently tugged the paper from Lucius' hand and smoothed it on the surface of his desk. He scanned the form number quickly and managed to stifle his surprise to just a slight hitch in his breathing, “You're trying to file a missing person report?”

The very tip of Draco's tail twitched.

“Yes.” Lucius said stiffly, his voice only slightly fainter than normal, “My son, Draco, has disappeared.”

Harry nodded slowly and stood up from his chair, “This is the form for missing children. Your son is an adult. That's form 2-145- _B_ not 2-145-A.” He went to the blue cabinet and pulled it open, leafing through the blank forms and pulling out the correct one. Harry returned to his desk and sat back down.

Lucius held out his hand for the form.

Harry stared at the outstretched hand for probably a beat longer than was comfortable, as he made up his mind, and then put the form down in front of himself, picking up his quill, “Let's get this filled out.” He filled in the department and auror information and gestured to small wobbly chair in front of his desk without looking up.

Harry watched Lucius reluctance from his periphery. Eventually, Lucius lowered himself onto the very edge of the chair, his cane resting across his knees.

“Draco's full name?” Harry asked.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

Harry nodded, “How long has he been missing and where was he last seen?”

“Five days, his rooms at the Malfoy estates in Wiltshire.” Lucius' hands tightened on the black wood of his cane.

“Was there any sign he was taken or compelled against his will?”

Lucius frowned slightly, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

Harry went on, “Any sign of a struggle? Any evidence of someone or any foreign magic where Draco was seen last?”

Lucius' grip on his stick was so tight his knuckles were going white. Harry was quite impressed with how neutral Lucius' tone was when he spoke, “No. There was not.”

“Ok.” Harry tapped his quill with his index finger absently, “Has Draco received any threats recently or does he have any, or made any recent, enemies?”

Lucius glared at him venomously but Harry didn't rise to the bait. Draco was much better at vicious glares.

In his _understanding_ voice Harry said, “I am aware of your situation, Mr. Malfoy, I am looking for threats to his person that are unique, either in persistence or vehemence, within say, the last two or three months.”

“Are you going to assist me or not?” Lucius hissed coldly, “If you cannot fill out the form yourself I shall be glad to do it for you.”

Harry slowly set his quill down, using the movement to take a deep breath and gather his nerve, “Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said in a slow measured tone, “In order to file a missing person's report, it must be ascertained beforehand that the person in question is indeed missing and has not simply left of their own accord.”

Lucius was stiff as a coiled spring and Harry knew he was a hair trigger from blowing up. He kept his eyes fixed blankly on the form.

Harry swallowed, “Was your son unhappy?”

“What?!” Lucius snapped.

Very careful not to let his tone change, Harry repeated, “Was your son unhappy?”

Harry could see Draco's eyes open slightly, his gaze fixed on Harry.

“Was he happy?” Harry asked quietly, “Do you know how he felt at all?”

Harry finally dared to look up. 

Lucius looked as if he had been frozen in ice.

Harry shook his head slightly, “I've spoken to Pansy Parkinson recently. I understand she and Draco are friends. She led me to believe that Draco sent both her and Narcissa Malfoy letters that expressed a desire to leave of his own volition-”

Lucius' gaze dropped to his knees.

“-because he was unhappy with his home situation.” Harry finished softly.

Harry waited but Lucius seemed unable or unwilling to speak. His walking stick slowly turned in his hands as his fingers rolled the black wood.

Harry picked up his quill, reverting to his professional voice again, “I can fill out the form with the information you have given me but I cannot recommend pursuing this as a missing persons' case without checking with Pansy Parkinson and Narcissa Malfoy first. It is in the best interest of the auror department not to waste resources that could be better spent elsewhere.” He looked up from the from, quill poised to write, “Would you like me to file-”

Lucius stood, setting his stick on the floor with a thud. Without looking at Harry, he said, “Thank you for your time.”

Harry watched Lucius stiffly walk away, still so self-contained and yet bowed. An inflexible man in an increasingly flexible world.

Draco sat up, his blue-grey eyes fixed on Harry with an intensity that made Harry want to squirm. Harry put all his work in order and once his desk was clean, finally let the tension leave his shoulders and braced his elbows onto his desk with a sigh.

Draco walked over to him languidly jumping onto his shoulder and draping across his neck.

Harry looked up at the clock, it was still early.

Following his gaze Draco let his opinion be known by slightly sinking his claws into Harry's shoulder.

“Alright. Alright. We'll go.” Harry said wearily and stood up, throwing his cloak over his arm and heading down to the apparition zone.

Harry didn't even pause once they arrived at Grimmauld, heading straight to his favorite sofa and dropping into the center of it, pulling one of the many cushions into his arms and squeezing it tightly. Draco jumped off his shoulder and Harry let his eyes close and dropped his head back.

Draco pawed his arm.

Harry made some sort of grumbled noise in response.

The paw on his arm suddenly had four points gently pressing against his skin.

Harry's head jerked up, “What?” he looked at Draco.

Draco dropped his paw and stretched out his neck.

Harry blinked at the glimmer of silver resting against white fur. He reached out, wary in case this wasn't what Draco wanted, sliding his fingers over the silky fur and slipping his fingertips just underneath the warm metal chain. The chain fell free and a white cat became a man with pale skin and hair, in a white button-up and dark grey trousers, kneeling on the couch beside Harry. The couch groaned, the cushions sinking under his sudden weight and Draco's arm came up to brace against the back of the couch as he caught his breath.

Harry watched Draco, trying to see his expression, his eyes. He squeezed the pillow tighter to himself forcing himself not to reach out. When Draco looked at Harry, his eyes were shining in a way Harry had never seen before.

Draco pulled the pillow from Harry's unresisting arms and tossed it away, he shifted his weight, gripping the back of the couch.

Harry blinked, transfixed, his heart pounding in his throat.

Draco half smiled as he slid his leg over Harry's, straddling his thighs, putting his other hand against the back of the couch and trapping Harry between his arms. Draco's thighs pressed to Harry's own, the weight and heat burning into his body. The smell of Draco suddenly filling his lungs like a breath he hadn't known he was missing and making him dizzy. Without thinking, Harry reached out and clutched at Draco's shirt, tangling his hands in the loose fabric as if it was the only thing holding him up.

“I can't believe you said that to my father,” Draco said his tone half laughing and breathless, with that small smile and so close Harry could see his how long his eyelashes were, nearly translucent at the tips.

The couch creaked as Draco leaned in, brushing his lips across Harry's, with just the faintest touch of his tongue as he sought to wet his own lips as well as Harry's.

Harry's eyes fluttered as Draco pulled away and his breath followed the blond's retreat.

“This is the part where you hit me, Potter.” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow.

Harry looked down at his hands clutching desperately in Draco's shirt. His fingers loosened their hold, and his fingertips pressed to Draco's side, into the heat of his skin that radiated from beneath thin cotton as smooth as silk. He let his hands slowly trace along the bottom of Draco's ribs, Harry's pulse jumping with the rise and fall of Draco's every breath. Harry's hands followed the flowing lines of his back, his bones and muscles moving with the certain inevitability of the tide along the shore, and dipped into the valley of his spine.

Harry's eyes followed the buttons up Draco's shirt, the hollow of his throat and the long elegant line of his throat and met grey eyes, “Why would I want to do that?” he asked softly.

Draco let out a shuddering breath, his eyes flickered over Harry's, studying his expression. Harry saw the smile start in Draco's eyes, saw his mouth pull up and show his pointed canines until the smile seemed to fill him from the inside out.

Harry's breath caught in his chest at the sight and he hesitantly leaned it to kiss that smile, the soft pull of Draco's mouth against his own making his heart race. He had a smile to match and felt giddy on the edge of laughter.

The couch creaked as Draco brought his hand to cup Harry's cheek, long fingers sliding along the first prickle of stubble. Harry pressed his own hand over Draco's, leaning into his touch and searching Draco's eyes as his chest thrummed so hard it almost hurt.

“Still a cat, eh Potter?” Draco's voice barely above a whisper, his thumb stroking across Harry's cheek and slipping down to the corner of his mouth. He watched transfixed by the movement of his own finger as it slowly traced across the shape of Harry's lips.

“Hmm.” Harry hummed, kissing Draco's thumb, “Well, I am very good at it.” He shifted his hand so his fingers interlaced with Draco's, “You were bloody _awful,_ ” he teased.

They caught each other eyes, were held silent for one breathless moment, and then both burst out laughing. Leaning into one another, foreheads pressing together as they squeezed their linked hands together.

“Harry?!”

They both jumped, looking towards the doorway.

Harry unconsciously wrapped his arm tighter around Draco's back. Draco's grip on his hand tightened and Harry felt a surge of relief at the gesture.

“Harry?” Hermione poked her head into the room and let out a startled, “Oh.”

Draco shifted his weight and carefully stood, his expression smooth and unreadable. His hand stretched away from Harry and loosening its grip.

Harry stood, half in front of Draco, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go, “Hi, 'Mione. I wasn't expecting you.”

“Harry...” She glanced uneasily from Harry to Draco, “Is this why you told us you were bisexual?”

Harry glanced back.

Draco's eyebrow twitched as he met Harry's gaze.

“That's definitely a part of it.” Harry said as he looked back at her, “I mean, I realized a while ago and had been meaning to tell you anyway.”

Hermione took a few steps forward, reaching for him and then pulling her arm back when he didn't step up to meet her halfway, “But that's- It's Malfoy.”

Harry nodded. He resisted the urge to look back at Draco again and smiled faintly to reassure her, “He's going to be staying here for a while. His father's been-”

“A gormless arsemonger.” Draco finished for him, his voice completely flat.

Harry looked back and grinned, “Yeah,” he laughed.

The corners of Draco's mouth twitched.

“But he's-” Her brow furrowed and she frowned, “All the things he done and everything at school. _Harry_ , it's _Malfoy_.”

Harry said, “People change, Hermione. We're not the same, he's not either. Growing up, moving on with our lives-”

She shook her head abruptly, her hair flying around her face and obscuring her expression, “So you're just going to let him stay here?”

Harry's shook his head vaguely in an echo of her, “I let you and Ron stay here after the war? Neville stayed a while after he quit being an Auror.”

“That's not-” Hermione shook her head again, “It's just- I don't want you to be taken advantage of, Harry.”

“Taken advantage-?” Harry frowned. 

Harry felt Draco step closer to him, his whole body held in a line of tension.

Hermione's hands balled into fists, “He's _not_ your friend and he's _not_ paying rent and-”

“I'm not a fucking charity case, Granger. I'll pay him back.” Draco hissed, sliding forward until his chest hit Harry's shoulder.

Harry felt certain they were both a step away from hexing one another or just skipping pleasantries and going straight to breaking each other noses. He looked from Hermione to Draco, his mind stuttering along looking for a solution and just on the edge of panic.

Then, for once in his goddamn life, he knew exactly what to do.

Harry grabbed Draco's wrist, “Come with me.” and pulled him out of the room.

Draco let himself be led, mostly out of shock, “What are you on about, Potter?”

“Shut up and come on.” Harry said, walking through the narrow hallways to the back of the house.

Hermione called after them but Harry ignored her. He opened the back door, pushing his shoulder against it to force it past the stuck jam and stepped out into the back yard.

“Merlin's tits, Potter, what have you done?” Draco said in shock.

“Nothing.” Harry said, “I don't think anyone's looked after it for decades.”

He looked over the waist-high grass of the huge backyard. It was as big as a quidditch pitch and Harry knew from exploring that the small shed in the back corner had a set of old hoops for the game, though the enchantments that would have kept them aloft had worn off years ago. Half-dead Trees loomed around the perimeter of the yard, possible flower beds had bled into the yard, overgrown and choked out with weeds. It was likely beautiful a long time ago but now looked like something out of a muggle horror movie.

Draco's mouth curled, “Disgraceful.”

“Think you could make anything of it?” Harry asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow appraisingly, glancing back at Harry and giving him a cocky smirk, “Certainly.”

“Harry?” Hermione asked from behind him, stepping up to his side.

“Ta-dah.” Harry said jokingly with a dramatic flourish, “Problem solved. No one is taking advantage or a charity case.”

“Not everyone can boast to having a Malfoy as their gardener.” Draco said, plucking his wand from his back pocket and aiming it at the grass in front of him with a muttered spell that scythed it down as he stepped forward.

“I feel honored,” Harry said blandly.

“As well you should.” Draco said over his shoulder.

“Are you sure about all this?” Hermione said softly, each word measured and full of hesitation.

Harry looked at her in disbelief, “I don't know. It's all just _started_.” He laughed, “I'd like to see where it ends up.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “But in school...”

“I like who he is _now_ , Mione.” Harry said patiently, “He gardens. He has tea with his mum and has horrible, wonderful friends.” He smiled as he watched Draco's lean over to look at some overgrown shrub, “He hates finance and... he wants to be his own person.”

Hermione studied his face, worry still etched into her brow.

“I know how that feels.” Harry looked away from Draco and over at one of his best friends in the whole world and shrugged helplessly.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Hermione's arms relaxed and she slid her hands along her forearms, “I want you to be happy. I really do. I just worry.”

“He also adopts scruffy little black cats and brings them into his home.” Harry added.

Hermione blinked and then let out a little gasp, “You mean-?”

He nodded, “I was his pet for the two weeks I was transfigured. He didn't know until I turned back in the middle of his bedroom. I'm lucky he took it so well.”

“And he asked for your help to get away from his father in exchange?” She was starting to look uncertain again.

Harry sighed, “I would've offered anyway.” He lowered his voice and looked at Hermione pleadingly, “...I _like_ him, Mione.” He hesitated feeling his face get hot, “Please, give him a chance? For me?”

She stared at him for what felt like ages and conceded, “If you're sure.”

He grinned and nodded.

Hermione let out a long breath, “You have to tell Ron.”

Harry grimaced.

This seemed to cheer Hermione substantially and she absently tried to pushed her hair back, “Good, well after all that I need a lie-down and a glass of wine, scratch that, the whole bottle.”

“You can grab a bottle from the cellar if you like.” Harry offered.

She narrowed her eyes, “Bribery will not help your case, Harry Potter.” She turned to leave and then turned back, giving him a tight hug, “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Harry echoed, hugging her back.

“If you think I'm not checking in on you everyday with Malfoy living here you've really lost it.” She said cheerfully and headed back inside.

As Hermione left, Draco retraced his way back to the dilapidated patio.

“What do you want me to do with it, Potter?” Draco asked, gesturing broadly to the yard.

Harry shrugged, “It's yours.”

“Mine?” Draco's brows rose.

He nodded, “Do whatever you want with it. Make it yours.”

“You spoil me,” Draco said sarcastically while looking immensely pleased.

Harry smiled, looking down at his scuffed trainers.

“We need to set some ground rules.” Draco said loftily.

Harry's head jerked up, “Rules,” he repeated, a shiver of anxiety going through him.

The side of Draco's mouth twitched, “Yes. Rule number one,” He stepped closer, sliding a hand around Harry's waist and tugging him closer, “Around other people, you call me Malfoy.”

“Why?” Harry asked, sliding his hand along Draco's arm, looking down and unconsciously biting his lip.

“Because,” Draco slid his other hand through Harry's hair and tugging his head up to meet his gaze, “the only one who gets to hear you say _Draco_ , is _me_.”

“Oh.” Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He felt inordinately delighted. “So when it's just the two of us, I can call you Draco?”

He felt a shiver go through Draco as he said his name and stepped closer to him so they were almost touching and Harry could feel the heat from his body.

Harry said softly, “And you'll call me-”

“Harry.”

Harry was certain the sounds that made up his name had never sounded like that before, like something whispered in darkened rooms with shared breaths and skin pressed to skin.

Harry shivered and swallowed hard, “I see what you mean.”

Draco dipped his head slightly to kiss Harry, his teeth catching the bottom lip Harry had been biting before and smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry reached up and absently itched his nose. He had barely lowered his hand when it itched again. Harry pulled his eyes open a crack, peering down his nose irritably and spotting the strand of white blond hair hovering just in the end of his nose. He puffed a breath of air up and watched the hair drift back to its owner.

Draco sighed faintly in his sleep and pressed his face further into Harry's hair, his breath warm on Harry's neck. Harry smiled sleepily and reached over, sliding his fingers through the smooth, corn silk hair, brushing it back. Draco's brow furrowed briefly then relaxed back into sleep.

Harry had offered Draco any room in the house. Naturally, he had picked the one nearest to Harry's declared it would be adequate as a closet and then followed Harry into his room. And that was that. 

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had slept with someone. He vaguely remembered it being annoying, with hogged blankets, snoring and getting kicked in the middle of the night. Draco wasn't like that at all. He slept with his arms curled tight to his chest and once he went to sleep, he drifted against Harry like had had when he was a cat. He pressed his legs together, his feet pressed against themselves, or let his long legs twine with Harry's. He was a little cold, his feet especially but it was nice. Harry tended to get too hot at night so it was like having a personal cooling charm that also happened to be wonderfully gorgeous.

Harry watched Draco's eyelashes twitch and resisted the urge to touch his hair again. The two weeks Harry had spent at the manor, Draco always slept with his knees pulled to his chest, the heavy grey comforter drawn up to his nose. He couldn't remember seeing Draco look this relaxed before. Harry felt relaxed too, almost intensely so, like he had been carrying around tension, even when he thought he was relaxed before. 

He found himself grinning stupidly again and carefully disentangled himself from Draco and blankets, slipping from the room before he ended up laughing. It seemed to happen a lot yesterday. He would just be looking at Draco and suddenly start laughing without really knowing why... except his heart was soaring like he'd just caught the snitch, and won the game, and won the whole house cup all at once and was so full of adrenaline and happiness he couldn't contain it.

Harry slowly made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He filled the kettle and put it on, pulling out his favorite mug, black with a little snitch that moved when the cup was hot. He pulled out the various other mugs, moving them out of the way and setting them in a line on the counter until he found one in the back that was perfect for Draco. He put the other mugs away and gave the white mug a quick wash. It had been Hermione's mug, a joke gift she had gotten from someone and never used and then left it after she moved. It had a quote on it from Shakespeare, _I would challenge you to a battle of wits but I see you are unarmed._ Harry grinned as he set it next to his own.

He grabbed the skillet and put it on the stove, turning his head when there was a pop of apparition close by.

Mipsy was there, wringing her pillow case and looking desperately upset, “Mipsy is so sorry not to have breakfast ready! I will do it just now!”

Harry quickly shook his head and gestured placatingly with a free hand, “It's _fine_ Mipsy. Sometimes I just like to cook. Especially on weekends.”

Mipsy stopped her hand wringing and looked at him in complete confusion.

He sighed, “I know it's not something you're used to with the Malfoy's but other people enjoy cooking sometimes.”

“Like Mistress?” Mipsy said, “Sometimes Mistress cannot sleep and makes chocolate chip biscuits in the middle of the night.”

Harry's eyebrows rose but he nodded, saying a little faintly, “Yeah.”

She seemed content with this answer and bowed slightly, “Does Potter require anything from Mipsy?” She asked.

Harry looked around the kitchen, “Erm... well, I probably don't have the kind of tea Draco likes.”

“Right away!” Mipsy said cheerfully. She disappeared and a few moments later a packet of tea leaves appeared on the table.

Harry opened the fancy packet and sniffed. It didn't smell any different than his Yorkshire gold to him. He shrugged and went back to the stove, frying up some rashers of bacon. Made the tea and put the mugs under a stasis charm. He started on the toast and pulled out the eggs, trying to decide how Draco might like his.

Draco slipped up behind him, caught the neck of his tee shirt, pulled it to the side and bit his shoulder hard.

Harry yelped and spun on his heels, “The fuck-?!”

Draco stared down at him with a curiously familiar expression, stepped away without a word and sat down at the table.

Harry rubbed his shoulder and glowered at Draco, “I take it back, you're not awful at being a cat, you're just an awful cat.”

Draco glared at him half-heartedly. He was already dressed, in another simple button up and trouser combo. His hair arranged neatly but not combed perfectly smooth. It made Harry feel a little self-conscious still in sleeper pants and old tee shirt so thin it was nearly see through in places.

He watched as Draco examined the two mugs of tea. Draco turned the white mug, read the quote and smirked. Harry felt a smile echo on his own face and quickly turned back to the stove before Draco could catch him staring.

“How do you like your eggs?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Cooked,” Draco said with a yawn, cradling his cup in his hands.

Harry snorted, “No complaints later.”

He made them over easy with the whites perfectly cooked and the yolks perfectly runny for dipping toast in.

“You know we have a wonderful house-elf at our disposal, don't you Potter?” Draco said as Harry placed a plate in front of him.

“Yeah.” Harry sat his plate across from Draco, “I like cooking.”

“Is this a muggle thing?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed as he sat down, pondering possible answers and settled on, “It's a me thing. I cook sometimes when I feel like it.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea

Harry paused in the construction of the perfect bite yolky toast with bacon, “Your mum bakes.”

“You've gone round the twist,” Draco scoffed, “I'm not sure my mother has ever _been_ in the manor kitchens, much less cooked in them.”

“Mipsy says she bakes biscuits at night when she can't sleep.” Harry said.

Draco paused, “Mipsy said that?”

Harry nodded.

Draco fiddled with a piece of bacon, “You're sure?”

“You could ask her yourself.” 

Draco reached across the table and snatched up Harry's mug of tea, narrowing his eyes at.

“Hey!” Harry reached after the mug.

Draco leaned back out as he took a sip of the dark sweet tea and immediately pulled a face, “Ugh, Potter. Really?” He pushed the mug back into Harry's hand. “I thought you took your tea black, I was almost impressed. How much sugar is in that?” he sneered.

“Too much, Hermione always says.” Harry laughed, “ S'about two spoons or three cubes.” He added only a touch defensively, “I put in less after my first two cups of the day.”

“I should hope so.”

Harry shot back, “Says you. Your tea's nearly half milk.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he sniffed.

Harry shook his head with a grin and looked over his shoulder at the window above the sink, charmed to show the sky outside which was already a brilliant shade of blue. Harry suddenly realized he hadn't seen Kreacher much, ever since he had come back the old house elf had taken to avoiding Draco as a cat like the plague. He glanced around the kitchen and called out, “Kreacher?”

Draco's brow furrowed.

Harry resigned himself, took a deep breath and shouted, “KREACHER!”

There was a brief pause and then the old house elf shuffled into the kitchen, looking around warily.

Draco's eyebrows shot up, “ _You_ have a _house elf_?” 

Harry nodded absently, focusing on Kreacher, “The cat is gone, Kreacher.”

Kreacher's relief was palpable as his mouth changed into what equated a smile for him, “I am glad of it, Master.”

“You should have told me you didn't like cats. I'll be more careful next time.” Harry said.

Kreacher's eyes shown as his smile grew, “Master does not need to bother with old Kreacher.”

Harry smiled ruefully, “Sure I do. You take good care of me, Kreacher.”

Kreacher managed something like a bow.

Harry glanced back at Draco and grinned. He knew just how to cheer the grim old elf right up. He gestured to Draco and said, “This is Draco Malfoy, son of Narcissa Malfoy, ne Black.”

Kreacher pressed his knobbly hands together as he stared up at Draco in something like awe, “Miss Cissy's boy?”

Harry nodded, “He's going to be staying here for a while. He brought his own house elf, Mipsy. I was hoping the two of you could work together.”

Kreacher expression changed instantly. He glowered slightly, “Master does not think Kreacher can take of him? Master does not think Kreacher does a good job?”

Harry found himself using his professional voice a lot with Kreacher and let his tone gentle, “I would never say that Kreacher. You're the best house elf, the only elf of the House of Black. While Mipsy is here it would be a shame not to...” he hesitated.

“Grimmauld Place would be better served with two elves.” Draco said in his sharp aristocratic voice, his chin lifting slightly, “You are the senior and head elf-” Kreacher's eyes gleamed, “-Mipsy priority will be serving me but when not occupied with tasks I have given her, please see to her duties.” He said to Harry, “I would prefer her to be in charge of laundry and cooking.”

“Alright.” Harry nodded, “Is that alright with you, Kreacher?”

“Yes! Right away, Master!” Kreacher saluted and shuffled off at high speed. “Kreacher is very happy to be having a Black in Grimmauld again.”

“You'd think you never dealt with a house elf before.” Draco said once Kreacher was gone.

“Shut it, prat.” Harry said idly, grabbing a slice of toast, “Kreacher is different than other house elves.”

“Oh, is he a special snowflake just like his master?” Draco teased.

Harry felt himself bristle on Kreacher's behalf and stubbornly looked down at his plate as he said, “Tortured and left to die by Voldemort, forced to watch his beloved master die and unable to do anything to stop it, and then his next master was Sirius, and I love my godfather, but he treated Kreacher like shit and then I inherited the lot and I'm not a Black. So yeah, he's gone through a lot and I try to treat him as well as I can.” Harry quickly finished off the last bite of eggs and carried his dishes to the sink.

Behind him Draco said stiffly.“I- My comment was untoward.” 

Harry dropped his dishes in the sink, “Sorry, is the word you're looking for.”

Draco conceded faintly, “I am.”

Harry nodded, it wasn't quite an apology but was the closest thing he had ever heard from Draco. They brushed past each other as Draco took his own dishes to the sink and Harry headed out of the kitchen; Harry managing a slight smile which seemed to let some of the tension out of Draco's shoulders.

“I'm going to go work in the garden,” Draco called after him.

Harry paused with his hand on the doorjamb, “I'll probably join you in a bit. I have to write a letter.”

He went upstairs to shower and change and then went to the drawing room. He pulled the cushions out of the big couch and fished around in the back until his hand closed around the Charlotte chain. He picked the lint and hair off and slid it into his pocket.

The stairs creaked as he made his way up to the second floor and went to the family sitting room. It was smaller than the drawing room with a large fireplace with only a few older pieces of furniture around it and the massive Black family tapestry. Harry had set up his desk next to the window mostly out of convenience, so he wouldn't have to go up any more stairs anytime he wanted to write a letter. He took his time writing to keep his handwriting neat and applied his neatening charm as well, resulting in a very nice flowing script. He tracked down Kreacher again to owl it for him and warned the old elf they might have a visitor later in the day.

The summer heat hit him as soon as he stepped outside and he paused to let his eyes adjust to the glare. 

Draco had finished cutting down the grass and was working on the flower bed nearest the house, pulling out most of the plants he encountered out but every now and then finding some old perennial mixed in and working around it. He was wearing his gardening belt, not doubt filched from the manor by Mipsy.

Harry pulled the Charlotte chain from his pocket as he approached, holding it up so it caught the light. 

Draco eyed him warily, “What?”

“Will you keep an eye on me?” Harry asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “You're barmy.”

“Is that a yes?” Harry asked.

He let out a much-put-upon sigh, “If I must.”

Harry put on the chain and as soon as the ends met he found himself falling and then the world was a lot further down and a lot simpler. He walked over to Draco who was watching him with exasperation.

“Really, Potter, have you no shame at all?” he asked in a voice that was probably a lot softer than he had intended.

Harry just made a trilling little _meuw_ and let his head turn slightly.

Losing whatever internal debate he had with himself, Draco reached his hand out.

Harry hurried forward and pressed his cheek into Draco's outstretched fingers. He lost track of time as Draco settled down onto the patchy lawn and scratched Harry's chin and cheeks until he was nearly boneless with contentment. Harry stretched out on a patch of hard-packed earth on his side purring up a storm as Draco ran his long fingers through the fur on his back. He left his eyes open just a crack, enjoying the gentle, unguarded expression on Draco's face almost as much as the petting. He hoped that Draco would let him see that expression more without a barrier of fur between them.

Draco eventually resumed his gardening and Harry slept in the sun, enjoying the heat in a way that was impossible as a human.

Harry sat up as lunchtime neared, his ears pricking towards the house. He stood and trotted over to Draco, batting at his leg until he got his attention and then stretching out his neck to have the chain removed. This time he took a deep breath before Draco's fingers plucked the chain open. It helped but the cat to human transition was still exponentially worse than human to cat. 

Harry plucked the chain from Draco's hand and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“So quick to bolt, Harry?” Draco asked his hand brushing over Harry's thigh.

Harry shivered, “Someone's here,” he said faintly.

“Oh, well, off you go then,” Draco said flippantly, stealing a quick kiss and shooing Harry away as he turned back to what he was doing.

Harry flushed and stumbled to his feet, brushing the dust off his clothes as he went. He met Kreacher on his way down the hall.

“I showed your guest to the drawing room, Master.” Kreacher bowed.

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry said with a smile and slipped past him.

“Will you be wanting lunch soon?” Kreacher asked.

“Yes, soon.” Harry echoed, “I don't know if my guest will be attending though.”

“Kreacher will prepare for both,” the old elf said and disapparated.

Harry turned into the sitting room and found Pansy frowning at the various photographs cluttering the mantle. “That was quick.” Harry said.

Pansy spun on her heel and glared at him venomously, “What exactly did you expect me to do?” She brandished a furiously refolded letter and waved it at him, “ _I have information about Draco, please drop by when you have time_ ? Really?” She stomped over to him and jabbed him in the chestr, “Some people have better things to do than go gallivanting around at your whims, Potter.”

Harry sighed and said pleasantly, “I like your dress.”

She preened briefly under the compliment but before she could throw herself back into berating him, Harry was already heading back down the hall.

“Potter!?”

“Come on.” Harry said impatiently. He had really liked this little trick last time and was eager to see if it would work again. 

Sure enough, Pansy followed bewildered and angry, “What?! You told me to come over. POTTER!”

Harry said over his shoulder, “You said you were busy so I'll make this quick.” He opened the back door and stepped outside. 

It was quite worth it to see the moment when Pansy laid eyes on Draco, freezing in her tracks, her eyes widening in shock, “Draco?!”

Draco's head snapped up, he looked at Pansy and then glared at Harry.

“You came here?!” Pansy stomped across the lawn.

Draco stood up, calmly throwing a cleaning spell over himself and raising his eyebrows, “It's lovely to see you as well.”

She raised up her hand to slap him and Draco caught it.

“Really, Pansy?” Draco sighed, “We're not in school anymore, must you-”

She slapped him with her other hand and smiled smugly, taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

“Merlin, you're deplorable.” Draco bemoaned, he pressed a hand to his cheek and glared at Harry, “and you could have warned me, Potter, or at least protected me.”

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, “And get slapped instead? No, thank you.”

“Traitor.” Draco pouted.

Harry shrugged and teased with a slight smile, “You're pretty but not _that_ pretty.”

“Malfoy's are not pretty.” he muttered still cradling his cheek like he had sustained a great wound.

Harry walked over to him, pulling his hand away and casting a cooling charm on the faintly swollen cheek, “There, there.” he said, only slightly condescendingly.

Draco sniffed and lifted his chin imperiously as he turned his head away.

Harry grinned and shook his head. He cast a softening charm on the ground where he had been laying before and dropped back down, linking his hands behind his head and closing his eyes to enjoy the prickly heat of the sun.

“I hope you get a sunburn.” Draco said spitefully.

Harry laughed, “I don't burn.”

“Of course you don't,” Draco muttered.

“Why come to Potter, Draco?” Pansy pouted now that most of her rage was spent, “You could have stayed with Blaise and I”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Stay on your couch you mean?”

“It's a very nice couch!” Pansy said defensively putting her hands on her hips.

“Potter's letting me turn one of his bedrooms into a walk-in closet,” Draco countered smugly

Pansy gaped.

Draco smirked.

“I have seven bedrooms.” Harry shrugged, “I only use two? Sometimes.”

Pansy smirked back briefly and then turned it into a sweet smile as she turned to Harry, “Can I move in, Potter? We are friends now aren't we?”

“No.” Draco said flatly.

“Shut up.” Pansy stomped.

“N-o.” Draco said with a deliberate slowness for the hard of listening.

Pansy sniffed, “It's not your house is it?”

“Well...” Harry pretended to consider the idea for the sheer entertainment value. These Slytherin's seemed to bring out the worst in him.

“Absolutely not!” Draco seethed.

“Oh, yes please!” Pansy pressed.

Harry burst out laughing

Pansy sighed at Harry, “Don't tease, darling, it's not nice.”

Draco rounded on her, pointing his wand threateningly, “Don't get any ideas, Parkinson. I know all about your little lunchtime _dates._ He's just being nice to you because he's a bleeding heart Gryffindor,” he sneered.

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes, pushing his wand away with a finger, “Good grief, I was trading Potter for information about _you,_ you great pillock.”

“Oh?” Draco's eyebrows rose and then he smirked, looking quite pleased with himself.

She rolled her eyes again, even harder this time for emphasis and shoved Draco's shoulder, “Ugh. Only you would be depraved enough to actually _want_ Potter.”

“Thanks.” Harry said blandly from where he was laying.

“You have a lovely personality, Potter,” Pansy told him, “Probably.”

Harry waved his hand dismissively, “Certainly more lovely that yours, darling,” he drawled lazily.

Pansy tossed her hair and sniffed, “Personality is overrated. Who needs it when I _look_ positively fabulous?”

“Indeed.” Harry and Draco echoed at the same time in the same bored tone. Harry snickered as Draco grinned.

Pansy said, “I already regret getting the two of you together.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, “ _You_ had nothing to do with it and if anyone is going to regret something, it's _me_ having to deal with the two of you getting along.”

Harry grinned happily, “I have no regrets.”

Both Draco and Pansy groaned and looked at each other with long-suffering expressions that said _Gryffindors_.

Pansy sighed and smiled gently at Draco, an expression he considered with great alarm. She glared at him and smacked his arm and then gave him a brutal, squeezing hug.

“What was that for?” he wheezed once she released him.

“I'm just happy you're back to your old self, darling.” She said, looking a little sheepish at the sudden show of genuine affection.

Harry smiled turning his head until he could control his expression.

“No thanks to you.” Draco said snarkily, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his shirt.

She sighed and shook her head, “The things I put up with.”

“So, will you join us for lunch, Pansy? Or are you too busy?” Harry asked.

“Shut up, Potter,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “I'd love to stay for lunch.”


	10. Chapter 10

Sunday

  


Sunday was always a family dinner at the Burrow and this Sunday Harry went with more than a little trepidation. He arrived a good hour early. Normally, only Molly and Arthur would be there that early but Ron had been told to show early for Harry who had also been told to show early by Hermione. 

Harry tracked his oldest friend down out behind the house, flying loops around the clearing were they would play Quidditch games. He let his hand trail through the tall grass as he walked up, prickling and sliding over his palm and fingers. Clouds hung heavy overhead, leaving a path of broken shadows across the countryside. It was getting late in the day but the sun still lingered, filling the air with heat dispersed by the occasional breeze.

Ron landed and bounded off his broom when he saw Harry. “So what's this about?” Ron said with a nervous grin, tossing his broom over his shoulder, “Hermione made it sound like we needed to talk and it's always about emotions and stuff whenever she gets like that.”

Harry scrubbed his hand through his hair and looked down at his shoes, “I suspect it's something like that, yeah.”

Ron wrinkled his nose, “Oh, well. Go on, I guess.”

Harry sighed, “So, I'm kind of seeing a bloke.”

“Blimey.” Ron swallowed, “ _Already_?”

Harry snorted and took a deep breath, “I'm not done.”

“There's more?”

Harry looked up at the sky and then forced himself to look at Ron, “He needed a place to stay so he's staying at Grimmauld-”

Ron frowned, “but how long have you been-?”

Harry held up a hand.

“ _More_ ?” Ron gawped, his body tensing slightly and gripping the broom.

“Yeah,” Harry couldn't look him in the eye anymore, his gaze sliding to the side, “It's...Malfoy.”

For a long time Ron just stared at him. Then he dropped the broom in the grass. He shifted his weight as he crossed his arms over his chest. “So you're seeing blokes now and you decided to shack up with Draco _bloody_ Malfoy of all people?”

Harry nodded warily.

“I can get the blokes thing, I mean not personally, but moving in with the first fit bloke you run into-” He shuddered like he'd swallowed something bitter, “-and _Malfoy_?”

Harry couldn't keep the disbelief off his face, “I've been alive for most of twenty years, he's not the _first_ fit bloke I've seen.”

“But you've _just_ said you're bi!” Ron pointed out.

“I have _eyes_ , Ron,” Harry groaned, “and I was bi before I told you. It's not like a switch just flipped on in my head. I've liked blokes a long time and just figured it out last year.”

“Malfoy, though,” Ron shook his head, “You've been fighting like cats since you were eleven!”

Harry fought down a bark of laughter and nearly choked.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harry coughed with a quick wave. “So,” he cleared his throat, “You think Malfoy's fit?”

Ron's cheeks pinked and he shot backward a step like Harry had slapped him, “Look! It's just an objective observation sort of thing! I don't _mean_ anything by it! Ugh! Really? That's foul!” 

Harry laughed.

“But, I mean,” Ron hesitated and scratched the back of his head, “you... really, fancy him then?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “He's a lot better than he was a school, you know.”

“I mean, he'd have to be, wouldn't he?” Ron said.

“True.” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, “I just feel really relaxed with him. It's- I've never had a relationship where I felt so comfortable before.”

Ron gave him a look, “I mean that's great, but you've had like three relationships and that's being generous.”

“Thanks,” Harry said dryly.

Ron shrugged.

Harry and relaxed into an easy smile, “I didn't think you'd take this so well.”

“Trust me, mate, I am scarred for life.” Ron shook his head, “I knew you'd gone round the twist when you broke up with Gin.”

Harry stepped forward and punched Ron shoulder, “Shut it.”

Ron shoved him back, “I'm sure you and ferret face will get on like a house on fire.”

“Really well?”

“That or you'll end up with a burned down house.” He said cheekily.

Harry laughed.

“Wait,” Ron's eyes narrowed suspiciously, “this doesn't mean I have to be nice to him does it?”

“Not a chance. I'd be pleased if you manage not to hex one another and maybe, _just_ call him Malfoy,” Harry said.

Ron narrowed his eyes, “I will if he will.”

“Perfect!” Harry grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Ron smiled briefly, scooping his broom up, “I'm just gonna fly around a bit more till dinner. Mum'd be glad to see you, I suppose,” he said pointedly.

Harry took the hint and waved to Ron as he heading back to the Burrow.

Molly was in the kitchen and immediately swept Harry up in a hug, christening him with a dusting of flour and the smell of onions and dill. Harry knew better than to try and help her in her one-woman crusade. Unlike the rest of the Weasley family, though, he had figured out how to help her without asking to help at all. 

Instead, he would ask her to teach him and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he'd find himself in front of a cutting board or bowl and she would guide him through the recipe with care, drilling new charms into his head as she stood by his shoulder. Learning recipes from Molly had been what made him love cooking. What had once been a chore forced onto him by the Dursley's had become a way to spend time with the closest thing he had ever had to a mother figure and to help feed the family he loved as dearly as if he had been born to it.

He put in charge of finishing up the gravy as Molly checked on the potatoes, briefly bathing the kitchen in heat and a rich smell that made Harry's mouth water.

He listened dutifully as she listed off the steps to the perfect gravy, standing at his shoulder and watching him with her eagle eye, always quick to add a tip about how to best stir or what to watch for, adjusting his wand for the perfect twist here or flick there. As the gravy was finishing up the potatoes came out of the oven to join the roast and the yorkshire puddings under warming and stasis charms. Weasleys began to trickle in to get a hug, to sneak a bite or to chat until Molly chased them off. 

Soon Harry was chased off as well and ended up sitting with Ginny and her boyfriend, a reserve chaser for the Wimbourne Wasps. He had been around for a while and, importantly, didn't seem especially intimidated by Ginny. Harry was thinking he should probably try and learn his name at some point.

The Burrow filled with noise as Weasley's and their partners flooded in. The food was brought out and every sat down and ate and had seconds and Molly pushed them to eat even more. There was so much laughter and conversation Harry could feel it like a second heartbeat. Molly had made treacle tarts for Harry and when he could only eat one of the hand-sized tarts she promised to send him home with four more.

Hermione cornered him about talking to Ron and seemed annoyed that it had all worked out, immediately storming off to corner Ron.

Harry was about to leave and Molly pulled him into the kitchen pushing a basket in his arms. 

As she filled it with leftovers and five treacle tarts she said, “Dear, do feel free to bring your girlfriend next Sunday.”

“Girlfriend?” Harry froze and nearly dropped the basket, fumbling it in his arms.

Molly tutted at him, tied the basket shut and shrunk it with a perfunctory swish of her wand, “I have to admit, I had been hoping you and Ginny would work out but she's happy with Dewford and you're finally seeing someone new.”

“Seeing someone?” Harry echoed.

She closed his hand around the shrunken basket, “I just want you to know that whomever you're seeing is welcome here with us because you are a part of this family, Harry.” She smiled at him.

“Wh-what makes you think I'm seeing someone?” He asked more than a little dazed, “Did Ron tell you?”

“Goodness no!” She chuckled, “I could just tell.”

“Oh.” Harry slid the basket of goodies in his pocket and scratched his cheek, “Um, thanks, a lot.” He smiled at her sheepishly, “I- I hope- I mean we've only been seeing each other for a bit.”

“Well, she must be wonderful.”

“It's, er, a bloke?” Harry said awkwardly, half holding his breath.

“Oh,” She said thoughtfully.

He felt his chest get tight and asked, “Is that- Is there something wrong with-?”

“No!” She assured him quickly, squeezing him round the shoulders and patting his back, “Nothing wrong. Don't you think that in a million years, Harry dear. But if it doesn't work out with this boy you're seeing, Charlie is single right now. He's quite the fit young man, don't you think?”

Harry's eyes widened, “Molly!”

Ron said stepping into the kitchen, “Mum me n' Hermione are gonna head home-” he broke off as he saw the expression on Harry's face, “-Everything alright, mate?”

Harry shook his head, “Your mum is trying to set me up with Charlie!” he said utterly aghast. 

Ron looked thoughtful, “I'd forgot he'd be an option what with you liking blokes as well now.”

“Thanks, I have to go now,” Harry blurted, ducking under Ron's arm and hurrying to the floo.

“He's a dragon tamer!” Ron called after him, “That's quite an attractive thing right? Wears a lot of leather!”

“See you next week!” Harry said with forced cheer, grabbing a pinch of floo powder.

“Harry!” Molly called after him, “What's your boy's favorite sweet?”

Harry hesitated and called back to her, “I'll ask him,” Harry tossed the floo powder into the flames, “Thanks, Molly,” He smiled and stepped through the fire.

Harry stumbled as he stepped out and shook the lingering dizziness from his head. The faint sound of the wizarding wireless led Harry down the hall and he peered into the drawing room. Draco was sitting on the couch, laying against the armrest on one of the large pillows behind his neck and back, his legs stretched out over the cushions. He was reading, with an old book propped open on his chest.

The floor creaked as Harry crossed the space between them.

“Welcome back, hero,” Draco said, his eyes flicking towards Harry briefly.

“Did you eat?” Harry asked.

Draco's mouth twitched, “I do tend to do that,” He smirked, “Mipsy made me something earlier.”

“Molly sent me back with a ton of leftovers so I figured I'd ask.”

“I see,” Draco very carefully placed a finger on the page he was reading before looking up, “and would you classify them as edible?”

“Yes, Malfoy, I would.” Harry sighed, “She's like a Potions Master but with food. Molly taught me almost everything I know about cooking you know.”

Draco's eyebrows quirked with interest.

“She sent me back with about five tarts as well,” Harry said, “Do you like treacle tarts?” 

“On occasion they can be nice,” Draco said.

“And now?” Harry prompted.

“I might be a bit peckish.”

Harry took the basket out of his pocket and dropped it on the coffee table, resizing it. Mipsy brought them a plate and a fork and took the rest of the food away for later.

Draco dropped one of his legs to the floor so Harry could sit next to him but didn't bother sitting up, letting the book close on his finger and resting it against his chest. Harry held the plate as Draco daintily took a small bite of the hand sized tart. Harry watched his reaction expectantly.

“It's good.” Draco said and took a slightly larger bite. “How was the Weasley gathering?”

“It went well, really well.” Harry smiled, “I told Ron about you and he was really decent about it. I think it might've been in shock, though.”

“Hm.” Draco said, his eyes narrowing slightly, “I suppose this mean I have to be civil to him now?”

Harry snorted, “He said the same thing.”

Draco grimaced, “And?”

“Just, tolerate him? Call him by his last name, no insults?” Harry suggested.

Draco looked away contemplatively, “That's what you asked him to do?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, I can't be one uped by Weasley can I?” He sighed dramatically, “His first name is what again?” 

“Ron.” Harry said.

“Short for Ronald?”

Harry nodded.

“I can stomach that, I suppose.” Draco said his nose wrinkling and repeating the name like a bad taste in his mouth, “Ronald.”

Harry laughed.

“What's that for?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

Harry grinned, “You're ridiculous.”

Draco shifted on the couch, lifting his leg off the ground and back onto the couch, his knees pressing into Harry's sides, “Ridiculous am I?”

“Utterly,” Harry leaned into him, “I told Molly I'm seeing a bloke as well. I didn't say it was you, though. I figured it'd be best to ease her into it?”

Draco looked like he was going to snap something and pulled himself back. After a beat, he said slowly, “Our families haven't really got on in the past.”

“That's putting it mildly.” Harry said.

Draco nodded thoughtfully.

“By the way, what's your favorite dessert?” Harry asked.

Draco brow furrowed slightly, “And that's relevant to the conversation, _how_?”

“Molly wanted to know what my boy's favorite sweet is.” Harry said with a cheeky smile.

“ _Your boy_?” Draco echoed a little faintly, looking bewildered.

When he didn't answer, Harry pressed him, “Well?”

“Blueberry tarts or pies or jam or, well you get the idea I suppose. What in the world is she going to do with this information?” Draco asked.

“Cook for you,” Harry said, “She likes to bake sweets for everyone, it keeps her busy now that everyone's moved out.”

“Somehow that's mildly terrifying.”

“It's nice.” Harry smiled and tapped the covered of the book on Draco's chest, “What are you reading?”

“I spent a little time in your library,” Draco said, “There's quite an impressive array of potions books. This one happens to have a large section dedicated to potions that aid plant growth. I've made some of the simpler ones before but most of these I've never even heard of before.”

Harry shifted his grip on the plate, “There's an old potions lab in the cellar you can use.”

Draco smiled and inclined his head slightly.

Harry leaned forward and pulling at the book.

“You're going to lose my place,” Draco chided.

“Sod, your place,” Harry slid his hand in where Draco was holding his page, dropping the book open on the floor. Harry grabbed the fork from Draco's hand, stabbing the last bite of tart and dropping the plate onto the book, holding it open at his place.

“That is _not_ how you treat books.” Draco said with a sniff.

Harry put his free hand on Draco's knee, sliding it down his leg as he lay across Draco's chest, pinning him down on the couch, “Finish your damn tart.” He held the fork in front of Draco's mouth.

Draco went to take the fork and Harry twitched it back with a wicked grin. 

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Really.” Harry said expectantly.

Draco's hand snapped up, catching Harry's wrist and pulling it forward. He bit the tart off the fork and pulled it slowly into his mouth in a way. His eyes gleamed with triumph.

Harry reached out, wiping a few stray crumbs from the corner of Draco's mouth and licking them from his fingers.

Draco flushed. “What's your favorite sweet, Harry?” He murmured, his eyes fixed on Harry's mouth.

“Well... I'd have to say it's either treacle tart or Draco Malfoy.” Harry said just as softly, tracing his fingertips along the top of Draco's collarbone.

“Malfoy's aren't sweet.” He said with quiet mock indignation.

“I beg to differ,” Harry leaned forward and kissed him, slipping his tongue into Draco's mouth, tasting treacle tart and Draco all in one and discovering a new favorite.

Draco's hands tangled in his hair and pulled him closer. The fork clattered forgotten to the floor as they kissed until they were breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to put the day of the week at the top of the chapter because I know some people have trouble keeping track of continuity when it jumps ahead randomly and I just want things to be not confusing, especially, if I jump ahead a week or more once the relationship gets more established.


	11. Chapter 11

Tuesday

  


“So this is a normal muggle thing?” Draco asked eyeing the containers of takeaway suspiciously as Harry lined them up on the coffee table, “They buy food from dubious shops and eat them from the box in their living room?”

“Yep,” Harry nodded, “It's good I promise.”

“You can say that as many times as you like, Potter, I'm still not going to believe you.” Draco sat down heavily with an unnecessary amount of flair, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked the picture of a petulant child in the body of a twenty-year-old man.

“It's my favorite Indian place,” Harry said, pulling the last carton out and vanishing the empty sack, “There's bound to be something you like.”

Harry sure as hell hoped so. He had ordered seven different things when Draco had complained that nothing looked appetizing and only dubiously edible. Harry had nothing against Mipsy's cooking, it was excellent, far better than anything Kreacher ever made, but a little variety was nice sometimes. Harry had been craving Indian food, it took him hours to convince Draco to try it. 

Harry grabbed a plate and pushed it into Draco's lap. Then grabbed his own and opened the lamb tikka masala, his favorite, scooping up a generous portion along with some rice and a piece of naan.

Draco wrinkled his nose and very slowly leaned forward to look down on the food with suspicion.

“Scared, Malfoy?” Harry said.

Draco looked up, half startled and then smiled wickedly, “You wish, Potter.”

Harry grinned back and watched as Draco methodically took a small portion from each container and placed a circle of rice in the center. He took eat bite like he expected to spit it up immediately, only to looked pleasantly surprised and then give a highly detailed review of each entree. His voice would shift to something like a posh prat wine sommelier while he gestured widely with his hands, going on about spices, textures and aroma. It was quite possibly the most interesting meal Harry had had in ages, he grinned throughout the whole thing, laughing whenever Draco would look at him expectantly and enjoying the way his face lit up at Harry's reaction. 

Draco had been this way at school too, Harry remembered. He was always loud and excitable, prone to dramatics and strange wonderful fancies. Harry hadn't really seen much of it because of the whole bitter rivals thing and now he wished he had. Harry was keenly aware now, of how his memories of this sort of dramatics became less and less frequent, until sixth year when all the life seemed to drain out of Draco.

The floo chimed as Draco was rearranging the cartons of Indian food ranked best to worst according to him. Harry walked over to it and was unsurprising to see Hermione's head floating in the flames.

“Hello, 'Mione.” Harry said cheerfully.

“May I come through, Harry?” Hermione said stiffly.

“You're early.” Harry said.

“Ah, our parole officer?” Draco's voice carried faintly from the drawing room. The couch creaking as he stood up and walked over.

Harry bit his cheek so he wouldn't laugh.

Hermione sighed, “Yes well, Ron wants to go out to eat so I thought it would be prudent to check in on you before we left.”

Draco dropped down in front of the fireplace, his face set with determination, “You're welcome to join us, Potter ordered a frankly absurd amount of food.”

Harry's stomach fluttered and he managed a half-hearted, “Only because you wouldn't pick something.”

“Must you be so crass?” Draco drawled.

“Prat.” Harry rolled his eyes, “It's Indian food and we do have about half the menu.”

Hermione hesitated, “I don't know-”

“Indian? Brilliant!” Ron said, appearing over Hermione shoulder.

Hermione turned around and said something quietly, and all he could hear of Ron's response was, “Come on, Hermione, it won't-”

Harry sighed and opened the floo, taking Draco's offered hand to pull him to his feet. His heart was pounding. Harry looked over at Draco, not letting go of his hand as they wandered back to the couch. He hoped Ron and Hermione would come, that their bravery would mirror Draco's in inviting them; Draco who was pretending to be indifferent but was slowly accumulating tension in every line of his body.

He pulled Draco down to sit beside him on the couch, “Which is your favorite then?” Harry asked, pointing to the line up of cartons.

Distracted for a moment, Draco pointed to the chicken makhani, “The one that looks like démon d'eau calamars."

“Looks like what now?” Ron asked as he came into the room, crossing the room in a few long strides. He dropped down into the armchair across from them and grabbing a random container of curry, dumping it into the half-empty box of rice and grabbing one of the plastic spoons that had come with the food.

“The chicken makhani.” Harry said, retrieving his own plate.

“Chicken makhani.” Draco repeated, adding more to his plate, “It looks remarkably like this dish called démon d'eau calamars. It's devilishly expensive so it used to show up at least once a year at some pureblood ass-kissing party or other.” He waved his hand carelessly.

Ron laughed, “What's this demon calawhat's anyway?”

Hermione walked over, brushing soot of her shoulders, and sat stiffly on the very edge of the chair next to Ron.

“It's made of grindylows,” Draco raised his eyebrows.

Ron coughed, almost choking on bite of curry, “You're having me on!”

Draco shook his head, his plate almost completely forgotten in his hand as he shifted back into storyteller mode, “Not in the slightest. They make it out of those nasty little water-fucking-demons that live mostly off the shit on the bottom of lakes; slime, fish that eat slime, and snails that look like slime. They only use the tentacles in the dish but it doesn't matter, still tastes like shite,” He waved his fork around, “So they cover it in this sauce that looks like orange sick, made of 'sea delicacies' and that makes it taste like salty fish shite.”

“Is this really the best conversation for dinner?” Hermione said looking at the cartons of indian food with a grimace.

Ron was trying not to laugh and was shaking from the effort.

Draco took a big bite of orange sauce covered chicken and continued with gusto, “Just imagine it, a room full of purebloods so stuck up, you could put a broomstick up their arse and not change their posture-”

Ron snorted. Harry snickered.

“-all eating this merlin-damned fish piss that looks like sick and talking about how wonderful it is while they cast numbing spells on their tongue and nose and hope they don't burp- Wait! Now that is a fantastic story!” He leaned forward with a wicked gleam in his eye, “I was nine and had been dragged along to a party where this mess was being served. I scraped mine under the table when no one was looking, but anyway, later in the evening, Nigel Burke was speaking with the Belphus Ross and he happened to burp, the man turned completely green, promptly chucked his dinner all over Ross and fainted.”

“That's awful!” Hermione gasped.

Ron laughed uproariously as only someone who grew up with five brothers can.

“But Burke's sick promptly made Ross sick up as well and soon it was going around the room like a particularly bad case of dragon pox. Everyone was running towards the doors and there was screaming and fainting, someone got trampled, it was probably the best party I've been to.”

“The best?!” Hermione said aghast.

“Even the ones with dancing are dreadfully boring unless you enjoy gossip, chatting about dress robe fashions and ministry politics,” Draco drawled leaning back into the couch, “The most barmy part is, the next year the Urquart's served bloody démon d'eau calamars at their party like the last years catastrophe hadn't happened. And everyone went along with it! I even heard Belphus Ross bloody-well compliment the Urquart's on their _exquisite taste_!”

Ron collapsed back in his chair with a gasp, wiping tears from his eyes, “Fuckin' mental!”

Draco looked over at Harry trying so hard not to grin but looking pleased as a cat that got the cream. Harry couldn't help but grin back.

Hermione did not look pleased and Harry quickly offered to get her a plate then headed to the kitchen to retrieve it, knowing she'd have a tizzy if he called Kreacher. 

He pulled open the cabinets and grabbed a plate, when he turned around Hermione was right there. He flinched nearly dropped the plate as he reflexively went for his wand.

She had her arms crossed and her feet braced, with her mouth in a very determined set.

Harry forced himself to relax, wanting to sigh but knew by now it was best to just let Hermione get on with it.

“Lucius Malfoy has been very suspicious lately,” She said, “He's been canceling appointments. He was even in the ministry last week, the same time Draco Malfoy appeared in your house.”

Harry said flatly, “After Malfoy left home Lucius went at the ministry to file a missing persons report.”

Hermione hesitated and then went on stubbornly, “They say Draco's engaged to Astoria Greengrass. Their families have been drawing up contracts.”

“That was the reason Malfoy left. He didn't want to marry her.” Harry said and held out the plate to her.

“You won't even use each others first name!” She snapped.

Harry pushed the plate against her chest, letting go so she was forced to hold it or let it fall and she almost did, “That's something else entirely.”

“How exactly?” she said, holding the plate against herself like a shield.

Harry pushed his hand through his hair, getting frustrated, “Because when we do use each others first name it's special. Why are you so sure he's going to, going to-”

“Hurt you?” She said flatly, raising her eyebrows, “Why are you so sure he isn't? Your entire history up to the last week says he'll hurt you. There's almost no evidence to the contrary.”

“Please stop this,” Harry said, trying to push past her.

Hermione grabbed his arm, “I know you don't want to hear it, Harry, but-”

“Ron is trying, you could try.” Harry said resentfully, resisting the urge to jerk his arm away from her.

“Ron is confused and pretending it's not happening. In his mind, he's thinking of Malfoy as two different people, the one you're seeing and the one he knew from school.”

Harry said tightly, “And you think he's up to something?”

Her expression softened and she let go of his arm, “I think he's using you,” she said gently and left the kitchen.

Harry followed her a few moments later.

Just outside the doorjam Draco was leaning back against the wall, looking down at his hands, “I thought a bottle of wine might be nice,” he said flatly.

Harry swallowed hard, “You heard?”

“Unfortunately,” Draco said.

“Oh.” Harry hesitated. He reached out, pulling Draco's hand into his, it was cold, “I don't think you're using me, you know.” he said quietly.

Draco couldn't seem to look at him, all his snarky quips were gone. He looked so uncertain. It vividly reminded Harry of how Lucius had looked at the auror office.

Harry said, “Hermione will come around, eventually, probably, and I don't think Ron is confused. I think he's trying to be a good mate.”

Draco said with a banality that sounded forced, “I think you got the easy end of this deal, Potter. Befriending Pansy was a cakewalk compared to your lot.” 

Harry half smiled, “Probably. Then again, there's a good chance your father will strangle me with his bare hands.”

“He would never be so crass. An untraceable poison would more his style,” Draco joked weakly.

“Yeah. Sounds like him.” Harry said.

Draco squeezed his hand tightly, “ _I_ would be the one to strangle _him_ with my bare hands if he ever tried.”

Harry smiled and leaned into his shoulder, “Come on, I'll show you the wine cellar.”

“You don't think I can manage on my own, Potter?” Draco said.

Harry ducked his head slightly, “I just don't want to let go of your hand, actually.”

“Don't go all Hufflepuff on me,” Draco sighed, lacing their fingers together and tugging him down the cellar steps after him.

Draco found a white wine that met with his standard. It was one of the more recent additions to the wine cellar, a gift from a friend or bought by Kreacher who had resumed stocking the cellars like he had for the Blacks back in the day.

As soon as they got back Ron launched into quidditch talk, going on at length about the Cannon's and their superb chances with their new chaser. While Draco listened with an expression of puzzled disbelief.

Harry could tell Ron was prattling and looked ill at ease. Hermione had settled back into her chair and was eating silently. If Harry didn't know them, he'd have thought nothing was wrong but Hermione was still on edge and had at some point passed some of her worry on to Ron.

“I really think the Cannon's have got it this year!” Ron said, grabbing another container of food at random.

Harry knew better than to argue. 

Draco had not yet learned this important fact about Ron and tried to be logical and reasonable, “Their seeker is half decent now, I'll grant you that but this new chaser-”

“Lorenz Metody!” Ron interjected.

“Right. Nothing against Poland but they have two national teams and their regionals are abysmal. Even if he's the best they had, that's hardly saying much.”

Harry zoned out as Ron immediately began listing Metody's stats probably back to primary school. Eventually, Draco realized the futility of arguing against Ron's delusions and the conversation lulled.

Hermione was the first to pick it up and Harry tensed.

“How's the garden coming?” Hermione asked Draco.

Draco poured a few swallows of wine into his glass and swirled it absently, “It's going well. I've cleared out a large part of the weeds and overgrowth.”

“Oh, so you'll be planting soon then?” Hermione asked.

“That would be unwise. The soil quality is very poor. I could plant now but anything you put in the ground would struggle without constant fertilizing,” He took a sip of wine, looking at Hermione over the edge of his glass, his expression unreadable. 

“Plants? You, what? Garden now, Malfoy?” Ron asked.

“Yes, shocking I know,” Draco said.

Ron's brow furrowed, “I can't wrap my head around a poncy bloke like you digging in the dirt, fussing with plants and the like.”

Draco said bitterly, “With a year of house arrest, I had to find something to occupy my time.” 

“A lot of people would say you got off lightly, your whole family in fact.” Hermione said pointedly.

He looked down into his glass, “I never said otherwise. Simply that it was... difficult to live in that house. Working out in the gardens, restoring them, helped to keep me-” his brow furrowed and he frowned at his wine.

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, “You and Neville would have a lot to talk about then. S'weird to think of you two having anything in common.”

“Neville Longbottom?” Draco asked, “He was quite good at herbology in school, wasn't he? He's working in the field?”

Harry nodded, “He joined the auror's with me'n Ron after the war but it was, the stress was too much and he quit. He got back in touch with Professor Sprout and she said she'd take him on as an apprentice if he took his herbology and potions newts.” He asked Hermione, “He took them this spring right? Do you know how he did?”

Hermione played with her untouched glass of wine, spinning it between her fingers, “He got an Outstanding in herbology and barely managed an Acceptable on potions, luckily that was all Professor Sprout was expecting from him. So he'll apprentice and co-teach with her this year.”

“Sprout is finally going to retire?” Draco said.

“Where did you hear that?” Ron asked.

Draco blinked and shrugged slightly, “Why else would she have him co-teach with her unless she intends for him to take over?”

“That'd be brilliant.” Ron said with an easy smile, “Can you imagine, our Neville, a Hogwarts Professor and only twenty years old?”

“He'll be twenty one, _if_ that's what happens,” Hermione said.

“If anyone can do it, it'd Neville. He's not one to underestimate,” Harry leaned back into the couch, letting his knee brush against Draco's, “How's work going, Hermione? Any progress on the werewolf rights bill?”

That was all it took to distract Hermione off onto a rant about the Ministry and how old fashioned and outdated it was. Harry inserted the right sort of interested noises and one-word reponses to keep her going. Ron finished off the food and Harry and Draco finished off the wine, Hermione finished her speech and they called it a night.

Hermione gave him a quick hug with a, “Take care.” that had layers of meaning and gave Draco a stiff nodd before stepping through the floo.

Ron hung back, fiddling with a loose end on his jumper.

Draco watched him warily and was the first to break the tentative silent stand off, “I appreciated your company this evening, Ronald,” he said.

Ron jumped a little at the sound of his name, “Yeah, it was alright, the whole thing I mean.”

Harry watched as Draco stiffened even further; pulling his shoulders back and lifting his chin imperiously, drawing on formality like a shield.

“I was wondering, if it would be too forward of me to seek a tabula rasa between the two of us?” Draco asked.

Ron's brow furrowed, “A table what, mate?”

Draco's jaw clenched briefly, “A clean slate, as it were.”

“Oh, you want to start over?” Ron said, rocking back on his heels with relief, “I was thinking the same thing. Harry said you'd changed and you seem like you're putting in a lot of effort so I figure it's worth a shot, you know?”

Draco's brows rose, “Yes, I was also-”

“Good. Right,” Ron thrust his hand out, “To a fresh start.”

Draco nodded gravely and took Ron's proffered hand, “To a fresh start.”

Ron grinned and gave Draco's hand a hearty squeeze then clapped Harry on the shoulder, “We should do this more often. See you at work tomorrow.” He waved and stepped through the floo. 

“That went fairly well.” Harry said.

“That was like torture,” Draco groaned, “I'm exhausted.”

Harry laughed.

“I'm serious, Potter, come along.” 

Harry let himself be led upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been hoping to have this chapter up yesterday but I got distracted, speaking of, I have a new one-shot up and will probably finish another one soon. I've been very inspired lately, it's quite troubling as I have more ideas than time to write them. Ah well, tally ho and what-not.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have this out earlier but I had trouble with this chapter. I'm still not one hundred percent sure this is the direction I want to go but- well, yeah.  
> .  
> Trigger Warning for this chapter for Veritaserum used without consent or prior knowledge.

  


Friday

  


Harry came back from work to an empty house. It was about a half an hour later that Draco stepped through the floo. Before Harry could get even leave his seat in the kitchen, Draco hurried into the room, his cheeks flushed, dirt and grass stains on his clothes. He grinned and laughed when he saw Harry, jumping down the steps and hurrying over.

“Where were you?” Harry asked, the slight smile on his face growing when Draco got close enough for Harry to realize that Draco wasn't flushed, he had a sunburn on his cheeks and nose.

“Hogwarts,” Draco said breathlessly, dropping into the chair next to Harry's.

Harry's brow furrowed, “Why were you at Hogwarts? You weren't-” He laughed in surprise at the idea even as he realized it was true, “-Did you go see Neville?”

Draco lifted his chin with haughty pride, “I did.”

“How did it go?” Harry asked, scooting forward on the edge of his seat, “What happened?”

“Well,” His eyebrows rose and his flipped one hand languidly with an easy smile, “I knew I would need a peace offering and luckily your garden is full of quite rare, if somewhat unruly after a decade of neglect, magical plants. So I took a few forget-me-lots, wand flower, and fairy bell plant samples along with me...”

Harry settled back into his chair..

Neville had been quite wary about talking to Draco initially but was immediately interested in his plants, the fairy bells especially seemed to have a unique coloring and sound to them. From there, they had spent the rest of the day touring the greenhouses and gardens while discussing soil quality and potion fertilizers.

“Longbottom was quite interested in the unknown plant potions I found in that book of yours,” Draco said, excitement lacing into his voice, “I've told him I'm brewing some of them and next week he'll prepare some plants for us to test them on.”

“You're going to see him again?” Harry asked.

Draco raised his eyebrows, “Naturally, weren't you listening?”

Harry glared at him half-heartedly, “I was. It's just hard to believe.”

“Remarkable but not unbelievable,” Draco countered, “Malfoy's are naturally charming. I'm quite confident in my abilities to make any manner of friends.”

“Except Grangers?” Harry teased.

Draco rolled his eyes, “I can hardly be expected to charm someone who is quite immovable in her opinion of me.”

“So you'll just aggressively befriend everyone else around her until she caves under the sheer pressure of your charming personality?” Harry said with a grin.

Draco beamed a smile, “Precisely.”

  


  


* * *

* * *

  


Saturday

  


The floo chimed around an hour after dinner. Despite trying to ignore it, whoever it was persisted in calling again and again, the wards prickling across Harry's skin so he could hardly stand it. He stomped over to the floo ready chew them out and slam it shut for the night.

“There you are.” Pansy snapped, “Hurry up and open the connection, Potter.”

“I'd rather not,” Harry said testily.

“I know where you live,” she said flippantly.

“I'll key the wards against you,” he snapped back.

Her voice took on an edge, “I know where you work.”

“And you think I can't get you banned from the Ministry? Because I bet I can.”

She narrowed her eyes, “I will tell every paper in the wizarding world you are bent as a bottle of chips and are fucking Draco Malfoy.”

Harry's eyes widened, “You wouldn't.”

“She would.” Draco said, leaning against the edge of the fireplace, “Pansy's a vindictive little bint. If you tell her she can't have something she'll destroy it just to spite you.”

Pansy looked immensely pleased at this dubious compliment.

Harry sighed and opened the floo connection, pointlessly running a hand through his hair.

Pansy stepped through and spelled the ash off herself with an easy little flick. For the first time since Harry had first seen her in Draco's room, Pansy wasn't in a cocktail dress, instead, she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans tight enough to be a second skin and a loose silky pink top.

“We,” she made a point to look at both of them, “are going clubbing tonight.”

“Clubbing?” Harry said nervously, “I've never-”

“Perfect.” Pansy said with a smile and patted his cheek, “then it will be a new experience for you.”

“It's a little early isn't it?” Draco said, absently smoothing his hair back, “And normally you give me at least a days warning.”

“Blaise's idea. He wants to vet the boy-wonder for himself,” she smiled primly and looked Harry over critically, “And I'm early so we can get this human disaster looking-” she paused and narrowed her eyes, “decent. We just have to get you in the door, after all, can't be that hard.”

“Human disaster.” Harry repeated.

“Don't take it personally,” Draco said. 

Harry shrugged, “Nah, I like it. Harry Potter, human disaster,” he framed the words with his hands. “It's better than, chosen one. Never liked that one.”

Pansy sighed at Draco, “Have I mentioned your abysmal taste in men recently?”

“Not recently, but I'm sure that wouldn't have stopped you.” Draco replied flatly, “And trust me, I know.”

“Like you aren't a giant mess yourself,” Harry said.

“Git.”

“Prat.”

“Tosser.”

“Boys,” Pansy said impatiently, “Enough flirting, we have to get ready.”

She pushed Harry up the stairs, pulling him into his room while waving Draco off to go get himself ready. She lamented Harry's wardrobe which mostly erred on the side of comfort and utility. 

Luckily, or unfortunately, Pansy was a dab hand with tailoring spells. “Of course I am,” She said pointedly, “My dresses are _vintage_. They don't exactly come in my size.”

She finally settled on a pair of newer dark colored jeans and a green dress shirt that had been a gift from Ginny, though, Harry was not stupid enough to ever mention that around Draco.

Once he was dressed, Pansy went to work, tightening the jeans somewhat alarmingly and tailoring the shirt to his torso. 

She frowned at his hair and he sat in a chair as she fought with it, too amused to tell her it was a lost cause. 

He glanced up as Draco stepped through the doorway wearing black trousers and a skin-tight long-sleeved grey shirt that clung to his chest and made Harry's mouth go dry.

Draco quirked an eyebrow and smiled smugly at Harry's expression.

“I give up!” Pansy threw up her hands, “Your hair is an abomination, Potter.”

Harry laughed as he stood up, “It is.”

“All those years I spent thinking you made your hair look that awful on purpose and it turns out what you really needed was a curse breaker,” Draco stalked into the room and circled Harry, looking him over critically. 

“Or to shave it all off,” Pansy said.

“Over my dead body,” Draco muttered.

Pansy snickered, “Well it is remarkably soft,” She eyed Draco, “He cleans up nicely, doesn't he?”

Draco stopped in front of Harry and ran his hands along Harry's sides and down onto his hips, letting his thumbs rest on the top of his jeans, “Unfortunately,” he drawled.

“Don't worry, darling, I'm sure one glare from you will have them running off with their tails between their legs,” Pansy said leading them out of the bedroom and back downstairs.

“You think people will flirt with me?” Harry asked, more than a little bewildered.

Pansy snorted.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

Harry's brow furrowed, “Is that a-?”

“It's a yes, Potter,” Draco sighed again.

“Oh.” Harry looked down at himself and frowned slightly, not seeing what they could possibly mean. “I won't be able to tell,” he added absently.

Draco crossed his arms and said stiffly, “That you're quite fit under all that scruff?”

Harry chuckled, “No. Well, yes, I don't really see it myself. What I meant is, I can't tell when people are flirting with me. At all. Hermione says I'm particularly thick when it comes to stuff like that.”

“And here I thought kissing you first thing was extremely ill-mannered, turns out it's step one in Potter wooing,” Draco smirked.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Flirt later. We're going to be late.”

They went outside and apparated to a dark ally nowhere Harry recognized except that it was somewhere in muggle London. Pansy led the way and Draco walked back by Harry's side, his hands pointedly stuffed in his pockets but persistently walking close enough for their arms to brush.

“So a muggle club then?” Harry ventured as they walked.

“Of course. We do want to actually have fun after all,” Pansy said airily, a little bounce in her step, “Wizarding clubs have terrible music and there are only three in all of London, none of which are terribly welcoming to our kind.”

Harry blinked, trying to guess what she meant by _our kind_. 

Draco pressed his side briefly and explained, “Wrong side of the war and bent as well.”

Harry looked at Pansy in surprise, “She-?”

Pansy spun on her heel and ringed her arms around Harry's neck with a kittenish smile, “Prefers a nice fanny?” she purred leaning against his chest.

Harry flushed.

Pansy laughed and Draco pulled her off Harry with a sigh, “Pans tends to pursue women but will fuck the occasional bloke.”

“Never fancied one but they are nice for a bit of fun now and then.” Pansy said, linking her arm through Harry's and walking by his side.

Harry asked, “So in school, you and Draco-?”

“Messed around in a dark a few times when we were drunk but mostly we were just each other's beard,” Pansy said. 

“And Blaise?”

Pansy sighed, “Our Blaise is a beautiful slag that will fuck absolutely anything. Any gender, any bits, young or old, if they hit on him, he'll shag them.”

“Speak of the devil,” Draco said, gesturing up the street. 

They met up with Blaise outside the club and Harry almost didn't recognize the other boy. Blaise had always had an air of sophistication even in school but now he also carried an easy confidence that commanded attention. He had shoulder-length dreadlocks and was wearing a tight dark blue tee shirt that looked magnificent against his dark skin and black jeans. He smiled brilliantly when he saw Draco, clapping him on the arm, “It's so good to see you, my friend!”

Draco nodded with an easy smile, “It's been too long.” He gestured to Harry with one hand, “You remember Potter?”

Blaise looked over at him and his smile took on a significantly more calculating expression, “Of course, who could forget our great hero?”

Harry held out his hand, “Good to see you again. I hope we can get on.”

Blaise took his hand, shaking it once loosely, “We shall see,” He said with a friendly smile.

There was a short queue to get into the club but Blaise flashed the bouncer a brilliant smile and said something low right by the man's ear and they were let in right away. Inside the light was low and the world was rumble of noise, the overwhelming shouting of the bar bleeding into the heavy thumping beat from the dance floor. Harry just did his best to keep up. 

Pansy bought the first round of shots and Blaise the second. Harry went in for the third and by then they were all a pleasantly buzzed.

It was more than a little overwhelming. Harry stared more than he probably should have at all the couples around them. Despite professing not to know flirting unless it hit him in the mouth, some of the looks men threw Harry and especially Draco's way were very obvious.

Draco dipped his mouth close to Harry's ear, “Dance, Harry?”

Harry bit his lip as he looked out at the dark, pulsing dance floor. Before he could make his excuses Draco took him by the elbow and pulled him into the press. The music was more like a throb that traveled through his chest and the dancing was more frantic, a jumping pulsing movement like a second heartbeat. Draco's hands were always on him, his arm, his side or hips, pulling him close and guiding him. When he met Draco's eyes, so intent and focused on Harry and Harry alone, it seemed like time stretched on forever.

Draco guided Harry off the dance floor later, to a quiet corner in the back of the club, pushing Harry against the wall and snogging him senseless. He only pulled away when Blaise strode up with two glasses in his hand offering one to Harry and sipping from the other with a cheeky grin.

“Some friend you are,” Draco groused.

Pansy pushed past Blaise and took Draco's arm with an easy smile, “Oh, ignore him, darling, he's only out to rile you.”

“I know that,” Draco raised an eyebrow, “It doesn't change the fact that I don't have a drink in my hand.”

“Come on then,” she giggled and pulled him towards the bar.

Harry nodded carefully to Blaise as the dark skinned young man leaned back against the wall beside him. He took a sip from the glass, grimacing at the sharp burn, “What is this?”

“Rum,” Blaise said, “Never had it before?”

Harry shook his head and tried another sip, trying to get used to the flavor, “So, what do you do, for work?”

Blaise let out a bark of a laugh, “Work? I don't work.”

“Then-?”

“I'm...” he drummed his fingers along the side of his glass, “a kept man.”

Harry sputtered into his glass, “What?”

“It's a bit of a family tradition.” Blaise said brightly, “Older wizards and witches get lonely, I provide companionship.”

Harry had no idea how to respond to that and quickly took another swallow of the sharp alcohol.

“My mother had the unfortunate habit of falling in love with her companions which is why she's had far too many husbands. I've not had that problem, at least so far.” He smiled and something about the smile made Harry nervous. Blaise turned toward Harry, leaning his shoulder against the wall, “So, you and Draco are living together?”

“Yes.” Harry's brow furrowed and he licked his lips.

“And you're getting along well?” Blaise asked.

“We are, I mean for us. We still bicker but it's nice.” He stood a little straighter, a shiver of unease going down his back.

Blaise smile had faded from everything save his mouth, “Do you care for Draco?”

Harry hesitated, or tried to, but the answer blurted out of him, “I fancy him quite a lot.” His eyes widened, he hadn't intended to say that. He looked down at his glass and back up at Blaise. 

Before he could bolt, Blaise stepped in front of him, putting a hand on either side of Harry's shoulder, standing far too close for him to duck away.

“You put Veritaserum in my drink?” Harry shuddered.

“What do you want from Draco?” Blaise asked, his voice quiet and deep.

Harry shook his head, fighting against the serum, “I just want- I want him. I just want him, as much as he will let me have.”

Blaise pressed close enough Harry could feel his body heat, a dangerous glint in his eye, “You think you can just have whatever you want? Golden boy just wants to satisfy his lust and then-”

“No!” Harry snapped, grabbing Blaise's wrist beside his head, shoving him out of the way and backing away, the veritaserum still pushing him to speak, “I don't think I can have whatever I want! I've never thought that.”

Blaise followed him step by step, “What do you mean then, Potter? Explain it to me.”

Harry groaned, clenching his teeth together, “I just want to see him laugh and smile.” He shook his head, feeling angry and cornered, “I want to spend time with him, in the garden, reading on the couch, sleeping together, eating together and yes, he is fit as well. Is that good enough for you?”

Blaise took another step closer and Harry snapped. He shoved Blaise against the wall, pressing his forearm across his throat to hold him in place and shut him up. He flexed his forearm to drop his wand out of his other sleeve and hit Blaise with a silencing spell.

Blaise remained frozen against the wall, his eyes wide, even as Harry released him and stepped back.

“I am an auror,” Harry muttered more to himself than Blaise. He strapped his wand back to his arm out of sight, forcing himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly, his heart still racing.

“What in the world-?!” Pansy rushed up, standing between Harry and Blaise, her hands outstretched and uncertain who to hold back and who to support, glancing from one to the other.

“Just a silencing spell.” Harry answered numbly, “I put too much power into it so it might take a while to wear off.”

“Just remove it then!” Pansy said.

Harry looked at Blaise coldly, “No, I don't think so.”

Draco touched Harry's shoulder briefly as he walked up, “What happened?”

“Blaise dosed my drink with veritaserum.” Harry said.

Pansy gasped, “He didn't!”

“He did.” Harry replied flatly, “Please don't ask any more questions.” He turned to Draco, “I'm gonna go.”

Draco nodded, his expression grim, “I'll come with you.”

He shared an expression with Pansy who nodded, “I'll take care of Blaise,” she turned and slapped Blaise across the face so hard his head snapped back, grabbing the collar of his tee shirt and dragging him down so she could hiss a vicious tirade right in his ear.

Harry nodded goodbye at Pansy and lead them across the club and outside. The air was cool and sharp, compared to the pervasive noise inside, the night seemed almost startlingly silent. He retraced their way down the sidewalk until the club disappeared out of sight. 

“...I'm sorry Blaise did that,” Draco said carefully, “I didn't know what he had intended to do and would have never allowed him to if I had.”

“Not really your style.” Harry said quietly, quirking a brief smile back at Draco. He stopped walking when he realized Draco was no longer following. When he looked back, Harry found Draco staring at him with a myriad of expressions flitting across his face even as he seemed to be shutting down, stiffness crawling through him like ice.

Harry held out his hand. “Draco,” he prompted.

Draco stared at his outstretched hand almost as if he was looking through it.

“Come on,” Harry said, his voice softening.

Draco slowly stepped forward, stretching out his hand and letting Harry wrap it in his. His skin was cold.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked, his eyebrows twitching up.

Draco couldn't look him in the eye, “I don't know what to do.”

“Err, what?” Harry snorted, “You didn't do anything wrong.”

He shook his head, “When Granger said all that, in the kitchen last week, you knew exactly what to say and do.” He glanced up, meeting Harry's eyes briefly before looking back down at their joined hands, “I'm completely out of my fucking depth.”

“It's all a bit trial and error, really.” Harry said, “Trying is the important part and I know you are.”

Draco nodded, his grip tightening slightly on Harry's hand, “Is the veritaserum still affecting you?”

“Yes.” Harry said abruptly and frowned.

“Shit, right,” he took a deep breath, “No questions then.”

“You could find out all my deepest darkest secrets,” Harry joked darkly.

Draco quickly shook his head, “If someone were to do that to me, I'd be hard pressed to ever trust them again... I don't want that.”

Harry took a deep breath, a knot of tension leaving his belly at Draco's words. He smiled gently, “One. Ask me one thing.”

Draco's hand twitched, startled.

“I'll give you one question.” Harry said.

“I can't-”

“I trust you.” Harry cut him off, “Come on, there has to be something you've been dying to know.”

Draco hesitated, studying Harry's expression, his brow creasing with worry. Then he let go of Harry's hand and stretched out his forearm, pushing his sleeve back to expose the faded grey lines of the dark mark, “Does this bother you?”

Harry reached out and spread his hand over the lines, his fingers curling around Draco's warm pale skin, “The mark bothers me.” He said quietly, brushing his thumb across the design, “But it doesn't bother me on you.”

“What-” Draco started and then stopped himself before he asked a second question, his expression torn and confused.

“Ask,” Harry said, “Ask so you know I'm not lying.”

“You said one, Potter,” Draco said, his voice tight, “Now you're changing the rules.”

“They're my rules, I'll change them whenever I like.” Harry said, “I gave you all the questions in the world and that's the one you ask? I want you to know the answer.”

Draco swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing, “What did you mean when you said the mark bothered you but not on me?”

Harry let the veritaserum pull the answer from him without a fight, “The mark bothers me because of what it meant in the war, as a symbol of Voldemort. It doesn't bother me on you because you were sixteen and had very little choice.”

“I had a choice,” Draco said bitterly.

“I used to think you did too, that you should have just joined our side but it was never that easy,” Harry shook his head, “It would've been like expecting Ron to join the death eaters. You would have had to give up everything, family, friends, your housemates, and you had nothing waiting on the other side of that choice, no allies, no friends, no family, that you knew of anyway....” he paused and took a deep breath, “It's not a choice I think I would've been able to make either.”

“Doesn't make it right.” Draco said softly.

“You were sixteen,” Harry repeated. 

“When you were sixteen you had already been on the right side for years, already fighting _him_.”

Harry snorted, smiling briefly before it faded into something bitter, “I didn't have much more choice than you. Dumbledore shaped me into the perfect hero. Every year, every trial I went through, tied me more and more tightly to the light side. By the time I was sixteen I didn't have much of a choice left. I could either fight or run.”

“I would have run,” Draco said faintly.

“No you wouldn't have,” Harry said firmly, “You didn't. When Voldemort told you to- to, you know, you could have run from that.”

“He would've killed my family,” Draco said hoarsely.

Harry nodded in agreement, “And if I had run, my friends, my housemates, the people I had come to call family would have died.” He pulled Draco's sleeve down and smoothed the fabric. “We were kids and the choices we had were not choices at all, not good ones anyway. Sorry, Hermione's always saying that that explanation is too simple but it's how I make sense of it.”

Draco stepped closer, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Harry and hugging him tightly. Harry squeezed him tightly back, burying his head in Draco's shoulder. He felt Draco brush a hand through his hair, “Would-” he hesitated, “I want you to ask me a question as well.”

Harry pulled back and gave him an incredulous look.

Draco met his gaze uncomfortably and gave no further explanation, managing only a, “Please.”

Harry took a deep breath and thought for a moment, “...Are you... Are you afraid of your father?” he asked hesitantly and for a moment was afraid the question went too far.

Draco looked down at the sidewalk at their feet, “No,” he said stiffly, “I'm not afraid of him,” He paused and took a deep breath, “I'm afraid of the fact that I can't say no to him.”

“You said no to marrying Astoria,” Harry said.

Draco snorted self-deprecatingly, “I ran away,” his voice dropped, “I'm a fucking coward, all he would have had to do was lead me to the altar and I would've done it. I can't fight him, I've never-” he stopped abruptly and tried to pull away.

Harry caught his arms and held him tight, “Do you want to marry Astoria?” he asked.

“No!” Draco twitched his head back.

“Do you want to stay with me?”

Draco blinked. He nodded his head almost imperceptibly, “I do,” he replied quietly.

“Alright,” Harry grinned with relief, “Then, until that answer changes I'll keep you. I won't let him bully you.”

“But do _you_ want me?” Draco flushed faintly and quickly added, “I mean do you want me to stay with you?”

“I do want you,” Harry said without a trace of hesitation, veritaserum or no. “Merlin knows why, but I do.”

A faint smile crept onto Draco's face, an eyebrow twitching up, “Because I'm witty, handsome, and have impeccable taste.”

“You're a mess.” Harry said flatly.

Draco glared at Harry's hair, “Says the human disaster.”

“Takes one to know one,” Harry said cheekily.

That coaxed a laugh out of Draco and pulled his hands free to muss Harry's hair roughly before draping an arm across his shoulder.

Harry leaned into him, “Let's go home.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been staring at this chapter for tooooo long and I'm starting to hate it, take it away from me.

Sunday

  


“You're skipping your Weasley dinner?” Draco asked trailing after Harry as he left the backyard.

Harry nodded, “I already flooed Molly after we had lunch to tell her.”

“But this is a thing you always do? They're your- They're yours.”

Harry paused and shot a look back at Draco, “Very elegant, you really have a way with words.”

Draco glared at him and ground out stubbornly, “They're your family.”

“They're also very loud,” Harry said and went to the sitting room, flopping back on the couch, “I'm just not up to it this week.”

Draco stopped beside the couch, “Is this because of what happened last night?”

Harry sighed, “Would you quit looming?”

“I'm not looming, you're the one who decided to lay down on the couch,” Draco said a little acidly.

“It's still not your fault.” Harry said more snappishly than he intended.

Draco frowned, “That's not what I meant.”

“Oh? And what did you mean then?” Harry pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Fuck off, Potter,” Draco sneered.

Harry felt a surge of anger go through him, his hands curling into fists, “You fuck off.”

“You-!” Draco stopped and glared up at the ceiling and ran his hands through his hair, tangling the fine blond strands together, letting out a little growl of frustration.

Harry stared at him silently trying to reign in his anger.

Draco took a deep breath and muttered to himself, “This is ridiculous.”

There was a tense moment where they just stared at each other.

Draco broke the tense silence first, “Shall we hex each other now?” he asked.

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumping down as he relaxed all at once and dropped back onto the couch cushions. A slow smile crept onto his face, “We could skip straight to punching?”

“Only if it turns into wrestling with an unnecessary amount of groping,” Draco sat on the edge of the couch, “Shove over.”

Harry laughed and slid his legs tight against the couch.

Draco shook his head and laid back on Harry's chest, swinging his legs up onto the couch.

“You're heavy,” Harry said, shifting slightly under his weight and pulling his arm free.

“I'm bigger than you.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You're only two inches taller.” He combed his fingers through Draco's hair.

Draco's retort came out as a languid sigh, “Did I stutter?”

“Prat,” Harry said.

Draco let his eyes close, “Git.”

Harry absently played with Draco's hair, “It's very strange.”

“Hmm?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Everything. Us.” He lifted his hand, “two weeks I was a cat,” he ticked off on his fingers, “one week you were a cat.”

“Five days technically.” Draco corrected.

“Right, and then a week and two days of living together to round it out.” He tangled his hand back in Draco's hair, “And just now was the closest we've gotten to having a fight.”

“It would have been a very stupid fight. Do we have a quota to meet?” Draco asked. “If we do, I'm fairly certain we met it already, back in school.”

Harry snorted, “It just seems impossible. It shouldn't be this easy, should it?”

“Trying to jinx it?”

“No,” Harry said hurriedly, “Merlin no, I was...” he hesitated and bit his lip, “...I was pretty miserable before all of this started. I don't want to go back to that.”

Draco raised his hand,“I concur.”

Harry laughed and said, “We're all in favor then?”

Draco nodded gravely, “Aye.”

“Aye,” Harry echoed with a grin, “The motion is passed.”

He felt Draco chuckled against his chest.

“Speaking of family,” Harry started.

Draco groaned, “Is this retribution?”

“Shut up,” Harry tugged his hair, “Have you owled your mum?”

“Have I owled my mother,” Draco repeated flatly.

Harry sighed, “When I was at the manor you had tea or a meal with her every day.”

“We lived in the same house, surely it would have been more strange not to.”

“You only saw Lucius when you had to,” Harry countered.

“Yes, well, he's _unpleasant_ ,” Draco said, “I'm not a masochist.”

Harry persisted, “ _So_ have you owled your mum and told her where you're at and that you're alright?”

“Once. Ok, twice,” Draco conceded.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, “She must miss you. Do you think she'd like to come over for tea?”

“Tea?” Draco twisted around, “You want her to come _here_ and have _tea_?”

Harry's brow furrowed, “It's not that strange is it?”

“My mother, Narcissa _Malfoy_ , wife of Lucius Malfoy,” Draco said pointedly.

Harry smiled incredulously, “And _your_ mum who played with me as a cat, quite a lot, and seemed rather nice.”

Draco twisted around further, “Wait. She played with you when you were a cat?”

“Get your elbow out of my stomach,” Harry shoved Draco with a groan.

Draco grabbed the edge of the couch and rolled over onto his stomach, “I thought you just slept while she was watching after you.”

Harry shook his head, brushing Draco's hair back out of his eyes, “She and the house elves made all sorts of toys for me and would play with me all the time.”

“With the house elves?” Draco repeated blankly and then shook his head, “First you tell me my mother bakes and now you tell me she and the _house elves_ played together with you as a cat?”

Harry shrugged.

Draco narrowed his eyes, “And why, pray, did you never play with me when I was cat?”

“The most cat-like thing you ever did was bite me on the ankle. I didn't think you'd be very receptive to the idea,” Harry said.

Draco thought for a second and conceded, “True.” He dropped his head on Harry's chest, shifting until his ear was over Harry's heart and closed his eyes.

Harry felt a flush of nerves, his heart speeding up in response and Draco chuckled, feeling like a gentle thurm against Harry's chest. Draco reached up and ran his hand along the side of Harry's jaw and the stubble that had cropped up since the morning.

“I'm not a cat.” Harry said softly.

Draco smiled, “I can tell. You're softer as a cat.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the rough whiskers.

Harry laughed. He dropped his hand from Draco's hair and slid it over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles with his fingertips. 

Draco let out a little hum of contentment. His fingers slid up Harry's cheek and into the hair at his temple, “Turn on the wireless?” Draco murmured.

“You do it,” Harry said, “I can't, you're laying on my wand.” There was a pause and Harry could feel Draco laughing. “Really?!” He felt himself starting to grin and tried to fight it.

“You said it not me, Potter,” Draco teased.

When Harry shifted his head he could see the corner of Draco's eye crinkling in amusement. “What are you, twelve?” He teased.

Draco fished out his wand and the turned the wireless on with a flick and then tossed it on the coffee table, “There are some things that are always funny, and wand jokes are one of them. Don't tell me Gryffindor's are too noble to make a good wand joke?”

Harry gave up his fight and grinned, “Like, is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Draco snorted, “Too easy. Did you just cast engorgio? Because my wand just got bigger.”

Harry laughed and after a moment's pause said, “You must have used expelliarmus because you have my wand in your hand.”

Draco laughed and grinned so brilliantly it made Harry's chest hurt. Once he had his breath back he said another one and they were trading awful wand jokes and puns back and forth until they were shaking from laughter.

“Ugh!”

They looked back and saw Ron standing in the doorway covering his eyes.

“You left your floo open,” Ron said and shook his head, “Please never do that again.”

“Are we upsetting your delicate sensibilities, Ronald?” Draco asked sitting up with a huff.

Ron's brow furrowed and started to flush red and then he stopped himself and took a deep breath. “You're taking the piss, right?” He shook his head, “This is still so weird.”

Harry pulled himself up and disentangled his legs from Draco's.

“And the reason for your breaking and entering at this time of night is?” Draco asked.

He held out a basket, “Mum sent along some leftovers. Said if even if you weren't feeling well you'd still be wanting food.”

Harry grinned standing up and taking the basket from Ron, “Tell Molly thanks.”

“You can tell her yourself next week, I'm going home.” Ron rubbed his temples, he looked at them and shook his head again, “Weird.”

“Thank you, Ronald,” Draco said languidly, “Have a lovely evening.”

Ron made a face and waved over his shoulder as he was leaving, “Same.” 

Harry unshrunk the basket on the coffee table and laughed when he saw what was inside. He pulled out a small tart, made with a sturdy shortbread crust and filled with purple-blue berries.

Draco's brows rose, “Is that... a blueberry tart?”

“Looks that way,” Harry said with a grin and handed it to Draco.

“Who does that? Is she trying to Mum the world?” he turned the tart round in his hands, “She doesn't even know who I am!” He sniffed the tart delicately and then took a bite out of the side, his hand underneath to catch the crumbs. His head fell back and he groaned.

Harry swallowed hard and bit his lip at how completely indecent that sound was.

“Ceres preserve me,” Draco muttered, “Now I have to win her over.”

Harry laughed.

Draco elbowed him in the side, “Shut it, I can't possibly live without something that tastes this divine. Even the house-elves can't make a tart this good!” He glared at the pretty little tart, “I've been ruined for life by a professional Mum. You're not allowed to tell anyone I've said that.”

“I won't,” Harry reached out to break off a bite of the tart.

Draco smacked his hand away, “Over my dead body, Potter.”

“I shared my treacle tart!” Harry pouted.

“That was your choice,” Draco glared at him from the corner of his eye then sighed and shifted the tart over, “One bite and don't make me regret it.”

Harry took a small bite and bit back a groan of his own, it was amazingly good.

“Now you see my predicament.” 

Harry pulled out the rest of the carefully wrapped dishes in the basket, “Malfoy's are naturally charming, right?”

Draco slumped back in the couch, nibbling the tart to make it last as long as possible and spilling crumbs down his front.

Harry left Draco to his moping and helped himself to the roast chicken.

  


* * *

* * *

  


Monday

  


He had barely made it into the office when Pansy sent him an owl asking to meet him for lunch. As he was cleaning up to meet up with her down in the atrium he received a memo from the front desk telling him he had a guest. Harry smiled ruefully at the note stuffing it in his pocket and headed for the lift. 

As soon as he had stepped into the atrium he heard the clicking of Pansy's heels running across the tiles toward him. 

Pansy threw her arms around him, “I am _so_ sorry about Blaise,” she said quietly. She released her grip on him only long enough to grab the front of his shirt, “Are you and Draco alright? Are you still together?” her lips pressed together in a tight line of anxiety.

“We're fine,” Harry carefully peeled her hands from his front, “It's not like it was his fault.”

She breathed out in relief, “Thank Morgana.”

Harry smiled faintly in bemusement, “You're, um, I didn't think you cared that much.”

“Of course I care!” Pansy smacked his arm and sniffed, blinking rapidly and turning away to carefully wipe the corners of her eyes. “You make him happy,” She said softly, “But then again you always have.”

Harry felt himself flush and ducked his head.

Pansy sniffed again and went on more flippantly, “Of course when we were kids it was tormenting you that made him happy.”

Harry let out a startled bark of laughter and Pansy smacked his arm again with a cheeky grin.

She extracted a folded letter and held it out, “I had Blaise write you an apology. I made him sign it in his own blood.”

“Why?” Harry said, taking the letter with two fingers.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Old magic. Everything he wrote has to be true or the magic would rebound when he signed,” she shrugged, “A signature would've only done boils or a rash, though. I considered making him write the whole letter in blood but decided you wouldn't appreciate the effort.”

“Thanks, Pans. That's sweet?” Harry shook his head slightly and pushed the letter into his pocket to read later and encountered the memo he had just received. He pulled it out and smoothed some of the wrinkles from the square of parchment, “You know you didn't have to send a memo up, I hadn't forgotten we were meeting.”

Pansy's eyebrows rose, “I didn't.”

Harry looked from her and then turned on his heel to check the large room. There weren't very many people about, he tended to take lunch late to avoid the rush, so it was fairly easy to spot the shock of red Weasley hair. 

Ginny was watching them next to the front desk, her arms crossed.

Harry's brow furrowed, her eyes looked red and puffy like she had been crying. He glanced at Pansy and nodded over to Ginny, “I've just got to-” He trailed off as he walked over to Ginny.

Pansy followed along with interest.

“Hey, Ginny,” Harry said, “Is everything ok? Are you ok?”

“I didn't mean to interrupt,” Ginny said a little acidly, “I didn't realize you were _seeing someone._ ”

The laugh that came out of Pansy's mouth made Harry want to elbow her in the ribs.

“Potter?!” Pansy snorted, “He's entirely not my type, even if you dropped him in a vat of estrogen I'd still rather date a mongoose.”

“A mongoose,” Harry asked, “Why a mongoose?”

She shrugged, “Mongooses are rather cute. I was being complimentary. I could have picked a flobberworm.”

Harry shook his head and said to Ginny, “Pansy is a friend-” he grimaced a little, “-She grows on you. Anyway,” He reached out and touched Ginny's arm, “Are you alright?”

Ginny gave Pansy a look that was both amused and annoyed in equal measures, a look Harry imagined she got quite a lot of; before looking back up at Harry. She squeezed her arms tighter against her chest, “You weren't exactly my first choice but Hermione and Luna are both busy and I figured you'd be better than talking to my cat and I need to talk with someone or I'll end up doing something I regret.”

“You should come join us for lunch then!” Pansy said brightly.

Harry gave her a searching look

She glared at him, “I won't write anything without permission, Merlin's tits, Potter.” She huffed at him for good measure then said to Ginny, “Two sets of ears are better than one.”

Ginny shrugged with a grimace, her face crumpling on the verge of tears again, “I don't care. Let's just get out of here, I feel like everyone's staring.”

“That would be Potter's fault,” Pansy said taking Ginny by the arm and gently leading her to the apparition zone.

Harry followed behind, grabbing hold of Pansy's shoulder just before she apparated away. 

“Where-?” Harry asked once the world had stopped moving.

Pansy smirked at him and led them out of a small alley, “I found a lovely little cafe of my own just last week. Come along.” She had kept hold of Ginny's arm and walked at her side as they went down the sidewalk. Harry had the distinct impression that if he wasn't a third wheel he was becoming one rather quickly.

The cafe Pansy took them to was nice, with high ceilings and tall square wooden tables with tall square wooden chairs. By the time that had ordered an array of coffees, soup and a lot of pastries for Ginny, Ginny had calmed down again.

Harry sat across from her at the small table, “What happened, Gin?”

She looked down at her hands, knotted together on the top of the table, “I broke it off with Dewford,” She sniffled and Pansy offered her a pale pink handkerchief embroidered with daisies. She laughed weakly at the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, “This is lovely.”

“I have more if you need them,” Pansy said, “Sometimes one just won't do the job.”

Harry hesitated, his mind drawing a blank, “Dewford?”

Ginny stared at him and then started laughing, slumping over until her head was laying on the table, “You never even learned his name!” She sniffed and pressed the handkerchief over her eyes, “I should've known better than to date someone you couldn't even take an interest in.”

“Potter? Really.” Pansy said, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny smiled briefly, “He's a pretty good judge of character.”

“Hmm,” Pansy narrowed her eyes, “I highly doubt that. He befriend me after all and I am certain I have an awful character.”

Ginny laughed halfheartedly.

“You're interesting,” Harry said.

Ginny sighed, “And Dewford was boring; a nice, attractive, boring boy.” She squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around her head, her back shaking with sobs.

Harry awkwardly reached across the table and squeezed her arm.

Pansy rolled her eyes and gestured for Harry to move seats to sit on the other side of Ginny and mimed rubbing her back. Harry did as he was told. Pansy carefully pulled the hair back from Ginny's face and brushed her fingers through the long red strands in slow soothing strokes and offered her a blue handkerchief when the first one was soaked through.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pansy asked quietly.

Ginny nodded after a second.

“How long were you seeing him?” Pansy asked.

Ginny wiped her eyes, “Nearly four months.”

Pansy said, “So it was getting serious.”

“I thought so,” Ginny nodded and sniffed wetly, “It's hard dating when you play quidditch professionally, there's so much time you're too busy and then long stretches where you're free so I thought,” she hiccuped a sob, “I thought, dating another quidditch player would be b-better and- and he was really nice! And pretty good in bed.”

Harry grimaced and received a glare from Pansy. He said nothing and just kept rubbing Ginny's back.

Ginny sat up abruptly, “Coach had a hangover so we got the day off and I go to surprise him and the little slut is in bed with another girl!” She slammed her fist down on the table so hard all the dishes jumped and rattled, “I hexed the living shit out of him and- and,” she choked back a sob, “I had to go or I would've strangled him. I still want to.”

“What a fucking piece of garbage,” Pansy said comfortingly, “Did you curse him? I could teach you a lovely curse that causes their dicks to shrink every time they're unfaithful. It's very subtle and it lasts for years.”

Ginny managed a grin and wiped her eyes, “I just bat boggied him. I don't want to ever see him again so I'll pass.”

“I could teach it to you anyway, for future reference,” Pansy offered.

“Alright,” Ginny said with a grateful smile and dabbed her eyes, wincing slightly. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were flushed red from crying.

Pansy flipped open her small pocket book, that was much bigger than if looked by the way her arm disappeared into it.

Harry quickly cast a notice me not spell in addition to the muffalito he had cast when they first sat down.

Pansy pulled out a small ornate little jar with a pale bluish-white cream in it and pressed it into Ginny's hand, “This will sooth your skin,” She brushed a lock of red hair back behind Ginny's ear, “A little goes a long way.”

Ginny nodded absently, “I'll pop into the loo for a bit,” she sniffed, slipping off her chair and going to the small bathroom in the back of the cafe.

Harry watched Pansy closely.

Pansy startled slightly when she turned back and found Harry staring at her, “What do you want, Potter?” she snapped, glancing away and tossing her hair but not fast enough to hide her blush.

“Are you...” he narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, “Are you flirting with Ginny?”

Pansy smoothed her fingers through her hair, “Where in the world did you get that idea?”

“You were being really nice to her,” Harry said.

“I'm not heartless,” Pansy said indignantly.

“ _Really_ nice.”

She lifted her chin indignantly, “So what if I'm nicer to pretty girls? They're more pleasant to look at and smarter.”

Ginny was pretty, but just now she was more a red and blotchy mess. Harry raised his eyebrows, “Pretty girls are smarter?”

“All girls are smarter,” Pansy said confidently.

“Hmm,” Harry chewed his bottom lip absently, “She just broke up with whatshisface.”

“I am well aware, Potter.”

“She comes with the rest of the Weasleys. It's like a package deal,” Harry gestured vaguely with his hands.

Pansy's brow furrowed and she shot a worried look at the bathroom door, “What are you on about?”

Harry shrugged, “Ginny's bi. She dated Luna Lovegood after we broke up. ”

Pansy's eyes widened as she flushed and absently bit her thumbnail. She looked fixedly at the bathroom door and then back at Harry. “What in the world are you even doing?” she hissed.

Harry said, “I'm just making sure you know all your options.”

“For fucks sake, Potter,” she rolled her eyes, “we've been friends for like a week. I am _not_ a good person. I tried to hand you over to Creepy-Fuckface-McMouthbreather to save my own ass, remember?”

Harry sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, “I remember.”

She leaned over the table to jab a finger at him, “So-!”

“So,” he interrupted her, “I would've never imagined Draco and I together either but it worked out somehow. You're both adults who can make their own decisions and maybe you would work well tog-?”

Pansy cut him off, “You and Draco work out because you're both completely mental!” she threw up her hands, her face flushed with agitation.

They both jumped when Ginny pulled her chair out with a scrape and sat back down. She pushed her hair behind her ears and gave the little jar back to Pansy with a smile, most of the redness was gone leaving her looking just tired.

Pansy took her time putting the jar away, hiding her face with her hair.

“Sooo,” Ginny said nonchalantly, “ You and Draco-?” She raised her eyebrows.

Harry groaned and rubbed his face, “You heard that?”

“Mum's been talking about _your boy_ all week and it's Draco Malfoy?” She gave him a look, “ _Really_?”

Harry stiffened slightly, “He's-”

“They're lovely together. It's enough to make you nauseous,” Pansy said a touch defensively.

Ginny's brow furrowed, “You said they only worked together because they're mental.”

“Teasing is half the fun. Potter knows I'm just yanking his chain.” Pansy said casting a look his way.

Harry shrugged.

“Taking the piss out of Harry _is_ one of my favorite things.” Ginny said, relaxing back into her chair and nibbling on a chocolate croissant.

Harry sighed, “Followed by taking the piss out of everyone else.”

Ginny smiled devilishly, “Well they deserve it.”

“Here, here.” Pansy raised her coffee and Ginny met her, their cups clinking together quietly.

Ginny grinned at Pansy and Harry saw the normally sharp girl drop her head and smile shyly. Harry had to force himself not to stare at this new side of Pansy he had never seen before. 

Pansy enthusiastically took charge of the conversation, sharing all the gossip she had picked up over the last week, saving all the juicy bits for whenever Ginny's expression started to darken. Harry took that time to think. 

“You know,” Harry said during a lull in the conversation, “If you wanted, you could always get revenge on-” he hesitated and his brow furrowed, “Dewguy, without ever seeing him again.”

Ginny perked up and leaned forward.

Harry looked meaningfully at Pansy.

Pansy stared back for a second and then gasped, “You gossip mongering little whore!”

“Wait, what?” Ginny laughed.

Harry snickered, “Pansy works for Witch Weekly, she could write something.”

Pansy wadded a napkin into a ball and chucked it at Harry's head, “Don't make promises for me, Potter!” She glared, and deciding the napkin wasn't enough, followed it up with a spoon that Harry managed deflect with his palm and barely caught before it clattered to the ground. Pansy sighed, straightened her hair delicately and told Ginny, “I could write something but it would have to be completely scandalous to get in print, a reserve seeker isn't really on the top of celebrity rankings.”

Ginny blinked rapidly, pressing a handkerchief briefly to the corner of each eye and then clenched her jaw, “Oh, I can do scandalous.”

“Oh,” Pansy seemed to lose her train of thought as her cheeks flushed, “...well then,” She fumbled in her pocket book and pulled out her little green notebook.

Harry nodded to himself at a job well done. “Well, I have to get back to work.” He stood and pushed his chair in. He gave Ginny a tight hug, “You deserve better. If you ever need to talk again, I'm pretty rubbish but I'll always be around to lend an ear. ”

Ginny hugged him back so hard he felt his ribs creak, “You weren't so bad, Potter. Thanks.” She smiled as he stepped back, “I do want to _see_ you and Malfoy together though so invite me over to dinner soon. Should be hilarious.”

Harry nodded reluctantly knowing he wouldn't get out of it once she had the idea in her mind.

“Ta, Potter.” Pansy said flatly, not looking up from her notebook.

Harry shook his head and pulled her into a hug.

She wriggled like a cat, “Let me go, you oaf!”

“Thanks Pans,” Harry chuckled and squeezed her a little tighter, saying quietly in her ear, “but also, I'm going to tell Draco _everything_ that happened today.”

Her eyes widened as he stepped back, “You're _not_!”

“I am.” Harry grinned, walking backward towards the door.

“Don't.” She warned snatching up a fork and brandishing it like a knife, “He'll never let me live it down!”

“All's fair in love and war,” Harry smirked wickedly, ducking as a fork flew past where his face had been and pulled the door open, “Take good care of her!” He said to both of them and slipped outside with a wave.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I could probably watch these two idiots fall in love forever. I'm just so happy I have the opportunity to write the sort of story I've always wanted to read and that other people like it too. It's probably the best thing ever.

Same day

  


He left work early that day. As he was stepping into the house he heard the floo at the same time and hurried to greet Draco to tell him what had happened with Pansy and Ginny but was stopped short by the sight of the tall blond coated head to toe in a layer of dirt. Even his hair had been turned light brown by all the dust.

“What the actual fuck happened to you!?” Harry laughed.

Draco glared at Harry and looked down at himself with a huff, “You are supposed to be at work for another hour.”

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing and failed miserably, laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall to keep himself up.

Draco wiped his face absently, exposing a faint sunburn, patting his shirt and then reached out and caught Harry's face in his dirty hands, sliding his palms across Harry's cheeks. 

“You arse-!” Harry tried to smack his hands away.

Draco grinned mercilessly and pushed a hand in Harry's hair, grabbing his shirt as Harry shoved Draco's hands away from his face. They fell against the wall and ended up in a tangled heap on the floor in a cloud of dust. 

Draco pinned Harry down with the weight of his body, “Laughing now, Potter?” He tried to say loftily, ruining the effect by sneezing twice.

“You sneezed on me!” Harry groaned, “Nasty.” He took a deep breath and wrapped his legs around Draco's twisting his torso and using the Draco's shock to free one hand, grab Draco's shoulder and flip the blond under him in one fluid movement.

Draco squawked in surprise and struggled briefly but Harry had pinned one of Draco's arms under his knee and was holding the other twisted so that any struggling was intensely uncomfortable verging on painful.

“Au~ror,” Harry sing-songed. A pleased smirk crept onto his face as he felt his nose start to itch. His face scrunched up as he breathed in-

Draco's eyes widened, “Don't you dare-!”

-and Harry sneezed explosively, immediately collapsing in helpless laughter at the horrified expression on Draco's face.

“I hate you so much right now,” Draco groused yanking his hand free from Harry's loosened grip and wiping it across his face, leaving little streaks of mud, “Auror, my arse, you glorified clerk.”

“This clerk can kick your ass,” Harry said cockily.

Draco went to shove him off and Harry easily caught his wrist and twisted in a new immovable position, “You fucking, fuck!” Draco snapped.

Harry raised his eyebrows, shifted his weight, sliding back and grinding down on Draco's hips.

Draco gasped.

“What was that?” Harry asked with an innocent smile.

Draco's eyes darkened and his hips twitched up to press harder into Harry's backside. He took a deep breath and carefully enunciated, “You. Fucking. Fuck.”

Harry bit his lip and shook his head, “You are such a twat.”

“You like it,” Draco said confidently.

Harry laughed, “I am well aware how fucked up I am, thank you.” He let go of Draco's arm and leaned forward, stealing a heated a kiss and murmuring against Draco's mouth, “Let's take a shower and then you can tell me why you look like you were sat on by an erumpent.”

Draco rolled his eyes.“If I were sat on by an erumpent being covered in dirt would be the least of my worries. Dead, being the most pressing one,” He sat up, grabbing Harry's shirt to keep him from falling over and hauling him close, “Though, I do like the shower idea,” he smiled and kissed Harry languidly. “Now, get off me.”

“So romantic,” Harry huffed and got to his feet, taking Draco's hand and pulling him up.

“Romance?” Draco put a hand to his chest and dropping his other arm back in a sweeping bow, “You wish is my command, hero,” He kissed the back of Harry's hand primly, “Next time we end up grappling on the floor I shall conjure a rose to shove up your nose.”

“With thorns?” Harry asked with a laugh.

Draco scoffed, “Of course not. I would not wish to mar your lovely nostrils.”

Harry snorted and then sighed dramatically and put the back of his hand against his forehead, in a mock swoon, “How  _very_ romantic.”

And Draco smiled, one of those rare smiles that showed his teeth and crinkled the corners of his eyes. He laughed and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, spinning him around in a circle before kissing him breathless. Harry cupped Draco's face in his hands trying to imprint the feeling of his happiness into his skin.

They took a shower together that would've gone through all the hot water in a normal house, and stumbled into their bedroom an hour later. Harry pulled on a tee shirt and sleep pants and was surprised and pleased when Draco raided his dresser and pulled on a similar ensemble.

There was a tap and Mipsy said tentatively through the door, “Dinner is ready, sirs.”

“Thanks, Mipsy, we'll be right down,” Harry called out, absently running his hands through his damp hair. 

Draco pulled his damp towel from his head and dropped it on the floor, “I can see why you wear these now, very comfortable.” he frowned slightly, “Atrocious looking though.”

“I'm sure you could find something you like if you shopped around a bit.” Harry said, “I'd love to see you in a pair of jeans.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I'll take the request under consideration.” He grabbed his trousers off the floor and fished out his wand and what looked like a bean pod which he threw to Harry.

Harry snapped the pod out of the air and looked from it to Draco, “What-?”

“ _Finite Incantatem._ ” Draco said with a flick.

The bean pod grew to the size of a loaf and Harry nearly dropped it. 

Draco smirked, “I told you I was going to test some of those plant potions with Longbottom?”

Harry's eyebrows shot up, “You made a giant beanstalk? You bloody well made a massive bloody beanstalk didn't you?”

“Don't spoil the ending,” Draco tsked with annoyance.

“Sorry,” Harry said lifting the giant bean pod and turning it over in his hands, “There's this muggle story they tell to kids with a giant beanstalk, do you think it came from something like this?”

“McGonagall did mention something like that after she was done shouting. Although muggles got the details entirely wrong, apparently the real story was a potion accident that resulted in a large harvest of giant beans that got a town through a difficult winter or something similar.”

“Were there any giants?” Harry asked, prying the pod open and taking out a large white bean the size of his fist.

“I think one was employed to remove the stalk, really that's not the point,” Draco put his hands on his hips.

“Is the point something to do with how you ended up covered in dirt?” Harry said, stuffing the bean back into the pod, dropping it on the bed and stepping close to Draco slide his hand along the sliver of skin peaking between the tee shirt and soft cotton sleep pants.

Draco shivered faintly and smacked Harry's hand away, “Stop being distracting, I have a very interesting story to tell and you're ruining it, git.”

“Prat,” Harry said absently, “Go on then, I'm listening.” He picked up Draco's towel off the floor and collected the rest of the clothes they had shed on the way to the bathroom. 

Draco gave him a look, “We have house elves you know.” 

“Yes, I know, but I can't stand it, alright? Not all of us were raised to be pampered rich slobs,” He dumped the armload of clothing into the hamper in the corner.

“Use magic at least,” Draco sniffed.

“Force of habit,” Harry rolled his eyes, “Your story?”

He let out a much put upon sigh, “Very well. I had prepared two potions from that book I found. One was quite simple and the plant we used it on, was killed almost instantly.”

“Was that supposed to happen?” Harry asked, pulling the bedroom door open and holding it with an expectant wave.

“The ingredients themselves weren't toxic but I suspected the interactions and brewing method would not be conducive to plant health. The bean plant used for the first experiment didn't stand much of a chance but the beetle that was on the plant survived, which is quite fascinating. Longbottom transplanted a sprig of King's Thorn, which if you remember from herbology, was a cursed plant that was allowed to persist long enough to adapt the spell components into itself and propagate.”

“Black thorn bush that spreads like mad and is ridiculously difficult to kill?” Harry said as they made their way down the stairs and to the kitchen where their dinner was waiting under warming charms. 

“The very one,” Draco said pulling out a chair, “The potion killed it quite thoroughly. We tested it on a few other insects as well and they seemed quite unharmed. Both Longbottom and I are going to test soil samples from the killed plants and see if the potion has any lingering effects. It could be quite a boon otherwise, a great many magical plants are very hard to deal with once they get established.”

“Neat,” Harry said around a mouthful of broccoli.

“Neat,” Draco repeated flatly, “Really, Potter?”

Harry shrugged a little bewildered, “ _Really_ neat.”

“I'm not sure what I expected with your level of eloquence.” Draco said blandly, stabbing a piece of chicken.

Harry elbowed him in the side, “Get on with it.”

Draco gave him a halfhearted glared, “The ingredients for the second potion aren't particularly hard to come by but the preparation for them normally takes a few months, I just happened to have everything I needed already from my personal potions supplies and the final combination only took a few hours.”

Draco gestured absently with his fork, the food quite forgotten as he turned to Harry and got into the meat of the story, eyes gleaming with excitement, “We tested on a bean plant again and well, it was rather a lot like an explosion. Both Longbottom and I ended up thrown back and quite thoroughly covered in soil, as the beanstalk shot up,” he jerked his hand upwards in illustration, “thank Merlin we weren't  _in_ the greenhouses because it went right up the outside of the castle, climbed the Ravenclaw tower like it was a trellis and then another twenty feet above that and began flowering. It was growing those bean pods by they time I left. I've never seen anything like it,” he was grinning, “the beanstalk or the look of absolute dismay on McGonagall and Sprout's faces. Longbottom was quite apologetic, I'm afraid I was  _not,_ ” he sniggered.

Harry could imagine the look on McGonagall's face and winced in sympathy, “What happened then?”

“We were soundly lectured on how we should have researched the potions beforehand and sought approval for any experiments with the Headmistress and not,” he did a fair imitation of McGonagall's Scottish brogue, “ _messed about like a pair of first-years who ought to know better_.” 

Harry laughed.

“Which entirely ruins the fun of it, if you ask me.” Draco huffed, “That concludes the amusing part of the story. Tomorrow, I'm due back at the castle to help remove the damned thing.”

Harry perked up, “Can I come along? I'd like to see it, and I'll help, of course.”

“You have a job, Potter?” Draco said pointedly.

Harry shrugged, “It's not as if there's actually enough filing to keep me busy for a whole week, you know. I usually spend half my time helping train the new recruits.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “This being why the glorified clerk can kick my ass.”

“Yup.” Harry said, a bit of a cheeky grin sneaking onto his face, “So, can I come along tomorrow?”

Draco paused, looking contemplative and then snorted faintly and smirked, “Yes, I should like that.”

Harry's brow furrowed, “What are you up to?”

“Hmm?” Draco hummed innocently, finishing the last of his dinner.

“That look meant you think you can get something out of this and not just beanstalk help either,” Harry said.

“Well,” Draco conceded, “Your presence will hopefully soften McGonagall's attitude towards me.”

Harry snorted, “Yeah, maybe.” He floated their plates to the sink, “Think there's pudding?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, two small plates with what turned out to be warm cherry crumble appeared in front of them.

Harry sighed into a bite, “Don't tell Hermione but having a house elf around, one that can cook, is absolutely brilliant.”

“I'm not about to say anything around Granger to make her  _more_ hostile to me,” Draco scoffed faintly.

Harry helped himself to another bite and said with a bit of a grin, “Now, about _my_ day-” 

He told Draco about his lunchtime adventures with Pansy blushing and flirting with Ginny. By the time he'd finished, Draco's eyebrows had disappeared under his fringe

“Pansy Parkinson, blushing?” Draco said dumbfounded, “ _Pansy Parkinson_ ?”

Harry nodded, “I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it for myself.”

Draco sat back in his chair, pushing a hand absently through his hair which immediately fell back around his face without any product to hold it in place. “That little bitch,” He muttered, shaking his head, “I should have seen it. Practically, the only time she ever agreed with me in school was when I said you and SheWeasley shouldn't be together.”

“It's Ginny, or Ginerva,” Harry corrected absently while his mind latched onto something else entirely, “Back in school?”

Draco sent their plates to the sink and stood just a little too quickly, “Do you suppose Granger will stop by tonight? She did give us a pass yesterday.” he said already heading up the steps out of the kitchen.

Harry hurried after him, “Back in school, Draco?”

“Perhaps she'll let us have our evenings in peace now,” Draco said a bit louder than necessary.

Harry could see a hint of red on the tops of Draco's ears, “But, back in school, I thought you hated me?”

Draco stopped abruptly, “You're absolutely not going to let this go, are you?”

“No? I stalked you for a whole year once. I'm fairly certain I don't know how to give up when it comes to you.” Harry watched with interest Draco's ears grew redder.

“You don't know how to give up in general, Potter.” Draco turned on his heel to face Harry, doing his best to look detached and haughty even as his ears continued to give him away, “It is quite possible,” he said carefully, “that I found you infuriatingly attractive for a number of years during school.” He added hastily, “Just physically, mind you, I still loathed you.”

“Since when?” Harry asked.

Draco glowered at him.

“If you won't tell me I'll ask Pansy,” Harry pressed.

The glower only deepened, “You are spending entirely too much time around Slytherins. I dread to think what you will do with this information,” He closed his eyes and when he opened them again he locked them somewhere five inches to right of Harry's face, “Triwizard competition. I despised you for it, part of why I made all those damned pins.”

“I still have one of those,” Harry said faintly feeling inexplicably breathless.

Draco's gaze snapped to him, “You do?” 

Harry nodded wordlessly.

“We... are both completely mad.” Draco said softly.

They smiled hesitantly at one another.

Hermione's voice floated out from the floo a few feet away in the entrance hall, “Harry? Can I come through? I hate how you keep your floo warded now.”

“Sorry,” Harry said walking over to the fireplace and leaning over slightly to see Hermione's face, “I'm afraid I can't open the floo because I have to take Draco upstairs and test the structurally integrity of my bed frame.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “What?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You heard me. Goodnight, 'Mione.”

All she managed was, “Harry-!” as he closed the connection.

  


* * *

* * *

  


Tuesday

  


Harry had to shield his eyes against the sun to look up at Hogwarts as they approached. A surreal, massive green beanstalk, twisted around the Ravenclaw tower and reaching high up into the sky covered in large bean pods and light pink flowers as big as Harry's head.

“Wow,” Harry grinned at the sight and then over at Draco, “Wish Sirius could've seen this, he would've loved it.”

Draco smiled smugly at his hard work as they headed towards the greenhouses, “Longbottom's usually inside,” he pointed to one of the long glass covered buildings.

Harry nodded towards the garden beds, “I'm just gonna take a closer look.” he headed towards the base of the beanstalk. He heard voices as he got closer.

“I just think he's changed, a bit.” Neville said, “We get on now and he knows a lot about potions that I don't so-”

“Mr. Longbottom, and I have no say in whom befriend, however, I think it might be best if he does not return to Hogwarts grounds. Especially, after this little incident,” McGonagall said primly.

“It was an accident!” Neville protested.

As Harry rounded the corner of the greenhouse he saw the Headmistress' mouth pursed into a thin line, “So you believe, Mr. Longbottom.”

“Hullo Headmistress, Neville,” Harry said trying not to frown.

“Oh, Harry! What are you doing here?” Neville asked.

McGonagall's expression softened into a slight smile as she turned to him, “Harry, I wasn't expecting you.”

“It was a bit last minute. I asked Malfoy if I could come along.” He pointed up at the beanstalk, “I had to see this for myself.”

“Are you friends with him too? He has changed, hasn't he,” Neville urged.

Harry nodded, “Yeah. He had a falling out with his father so he's living with me.”

“You and Draco Malfoy?” McGonagall's eyebrows shot up, “And Grimmauld Place still stands?”

Harry grinned, “We haven't fought if that's what you mean. We solve our disputes a little differently now a days.”

“I find it a little hard to imagine the two of you talking things out,” McGonagall said doubtfully. 

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, quickly changing the subject, “Anyway, It's not all his fault, the potion I mean. He found the book in the old Black library and I said he could use the old cellar lab to brew.”

“You had a hand in this?” McGonagall shook her head and took a bracing breath, “I can't say I'm all that surprised. Always causing trouble, Mr. Potter.”

“That's me,” Harry said lightly.

“Here you all are,” Draco said as he walked around the greenhouses towards them. His arms were full of fist-sized, slightly wilted, pink bean flowers that had fallen down from the beanstalk.

“It couldn't have taken that long to find us,” Harry looked pointedly at the armful of flowers, “Get distracted?”

Draco smirked, “I made you a flower crown,” He lifted up the giant mass of flowers joined in a loose messy circle and dropped it on Harry's head.

It was a too big and immediately slipped over his eyes, and only stayed on by virtue of his ears and glasses which slid down to the end of his nose. Between the flowers, he could see Neville staring at him wide-eyed, torn between amusement and shock. McGonagall simply went still and stared at him in silence. 

Draco pressed a fist over his mouth to try and keep from laughing and that was no good as far as Harry was concerned.

He turned to Draco and said with solemn sincerity, “It's beautiful. Thank you.”

Draco took a breath to speak, almost cracked up and had to stop twice to get a grip on himself and then said with a shaky bow, “A-Anything for you, my dear hero.”

Harry bit his bottom lip and said as gravely as he could manage while half laughing, “Truly romance isn't dead.”

Draco leaned on Harry's shoulder for support as they both laughed.

“Oh, goodness,” McGonagall said faintly to herself, pressing her hand to her mouth, “I suppose I owe Albus a galleon.”

Harry pulled off his glasses, giving his head a little shake to drop the flower crown around his neck like a ridiculous necklace. He pushed his glasses back on and pulled out his wand, casting a preservation charm on the ring of flowers.

Draco's eyebrows twitched up, “You are not going to keep that.”

“I'll fucking keep it forever if want,” Harry said and remembering McGonagall said apologetically, “Sorry about that Headmistress.”

McGonagall shook her head with a wry smile, “I've told you, you can call me Minerva, Harry, you're not a student here anymore. And I'm not bothered in the least. The two of you just now quite reminded me of Sirius and Remus.”

Harry's eyes widened, “Yeah?”

“They were very close in school, very close indeed. It's terrible what the war did to them.” She smiled sadly and turned to the beanstalk and said perfunctorily, “You'll need to take it down in sections starting from the top. Ropes and levitation charms should make quick work of it.”

“I'm pretty rubbish at flying,” Neville said.

Draco pulled out their brooms from his pocket and unshrunk them, “Worry not, Longbottom. Potter and I will take care of cutting it down. You can be in charge of collecting the beans.”

Neville's brow furrowed, “The beans?”

“I had Mipsy test them. They cook up alright and they're safe to eat,” Draco said. “We could donate them, somewhere,” he waved his hand vaguely off towards the distance.

“You want to collect the beans and donate them?” Harry repeated a little dumbfounded, “ _You_?”

Draco glared at him and elbowed him sharply in the ribs, “I don't give a toss about the stupid beans but it seemed like the sort of thing you'd care about, Potter.”

Harry cupped his hand around Draco's chin and kissed him right then and there, “You're amazing.”

Draco flushed, “You're an embarrassment,” he said weakly, pushing Harry's hand away.

Harry grinned and grabbed his broom from Draco, mounting and kicking off up into the the air in one smooth movement.

Draco was quick to follow, “And take off those stupid flowers!”

“Never!” Harry laughed.

Below them Neville gaped at them opened mouthed. 

McGonagall shook her head, “When you boys are done, you may come have lunch in the castle. And Mr. Malfoy, we shall have a lengthy discussion about how you are to go about testing unlabeled potions on Hogwarts grounds from now on.”

Draco made an expression that could only be called a pout, “Yes, Headmistress.''

Harry grinned and raced Draco to the top of the beanstalk.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to start another shorter weekly story next week that will end on valentines day. Hopefully. I can make it work out.  
> See bottom notes for flower meanings

  


Wednesday

  


When Harry came back from work Draco was in the kitchen looking at a square of parchment in his hands with focused concentration. His hair was mussed and his button up was looking more rumpled than normal. It took Harry a moment to realize that the kitchen was set up like a shop display with the flour, sugar, soda, baking powder and salt all lined up on the counter. There was a bowl, spoon and the scales along with two eggs and some butter on the table. It looked like something from a telly cooking show or a magazine advert but was arranged with a careful anal-retentiveness of Draco Malfoy making a potion.

Draco's eyes snapped to him as Harry came down the steps, “Finally,” he said impatiently.

“What's going on?” Harry asked.

“I hope you meant it when you said we should have Mother over for tea,” Draco said a little grimly, his eyes studying Harry's face closely for his reaction.

“You invited Narcissa over for tea?” Harry asked, touching Draco's elbow briefly.

Draco sighed and leaned against Harry, “Yes, she _insisted_ , this saturday at three.” He held the square of parchment in front of Harry.

Harry touched the edge to steady it and skimmed over what turned out to be a recipe for chocolate chip biscuits, “Is this-?”

Draco shifted his weight sheepishly, “I asked Mispy to get a copy. Since you told me that Mother bakes on occasion, I had been thinking that perhaps these biscuits were the same ones she would bring me when I was sick in bed when I was young.”

Harry glanced over at Draco and saw the faint blush creep across the top of his cheeks.

“Maybe, not _just_ when I was young,” he admitted, “But, I thought it would be-” he flushed further, “-nice to make them for her.” He cleared his throat and lifted his chin slightly, rewrapping himself in his pride, “However, I have never baked in my life. I thought it prudent to wait for you to come back.”

“I can cook but I've never baked,” Harry said.

Draco took a deep breath as they both stared at the recipe like they were facing down a dragon, “Well, it looks a bit like a potion recipe and you can cook so between the two of us I'm certain we can manage.”

Two hours later Draco threw the baking pan on the floor in a fit of pique. The round little pucks that were supposed to be biscuits rolled across the floor. Harry sighed and leaned back against the counter, running his hands through his hair and streaking it with flour.

Their first batch had been too soft and the cookies had run and singed black at the edge. Draco had divided the remaining dough and added more flour to one, more sugar to another, each batch different and each batch a failure. Truthfully, with Draco's method of testing, he would end up figuring it out eventually, or at least made something edible and unburnt. 

“It's not right.” Draco said once he had calmed down, slumping down on one of the benches and sending all the dirty and charred dishes into the sink with an angry flick of his wand. 

Harry stoppered the full sinks and turned off the water so the mess could soak.

Draco curled his arms up on the table and dropped his chin in the middle. His voice came out muffled, “I think the first batched was the closest but it was, thin and wrong and I don't know why.”

“Could we ask Mipsy?” Harry asked, turning the water off when it reached the top.

Draco made another pouty grumbling noise and then said petulantly, “No. I've already asked her to show me how to make them but she doesn't bake either, Jacks apparently does all of the baking at the manor. Wouldn't help anyway, house elves use their magic for everything.”

Harry sighed, sitting beside him and was prepared when Draco leaned into him, matching his weight so their sides meshed together into a line of comforting heat.

“Why are you so useless at baking?” Draco said with a faint glare.

Harry laughed and teased, “Why are you, Master Potioneer?”

Draco frowned like kicked puppy, “Potions are more exact. Every single action required of a potion is written down.” He shifted, reaching out and poking the recipe in the center of the table accusingly, “This has all sorts of information missing. Are we just supposed to know?” he shoved it again, smearing it into a small drift of spilled flour, “Stupid thing.”

Harry sighed and leaned onto his elbow, “Well, I know one person that knows how to bake.”

Draco groaned faintly and slowly closed his eyes in resignation.

“We could ask Molly,” Harry said, “She's a good teacher and baker. She'd know how to make them.”

Harry waited in silence anticipating Draco's refusal but it didn't come. When Harry looked over at him, Draco's brow was furrowed as if he was in pain.

“Are you ok?” Harry asked, reaching over and brushing Draco's fringe back. Draco hadn't bothered to put product in it and Harry loved how soft and light it was.

“Fine.” Draco said shortly. He opened one eye sullenly and glared at Harry, “You're going to make me say it, aren't you?'

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, “Say what?”

“Bastard,” Draco muttered and turned his head away, “Ask her then.”

“Really?!” Harry said stunned.

Draco glared at him, “You are such a-” he sighed and stood abruptly, “I'm going to take a shower,” he rubbed his hands together and grimaced, “Flour is gritty.”

“I think that's the sugar.” Harry said and got a glare shot back at him for his trouble. 

Harry was considering whether it would be worth the trouble to try and sneak into the shower with Draco, he was betting there was a twenty percent chance of that working out well, when he heard footsteps in the stairs.

When he looked up, he saw Mipsy, staring at the kitchen with mounting disbelief. Harry followed her gaze from the flour that seemed to have gotten everywhere when they had accidentally dropped the bag, to the burned biscuits scattered across the floor, to the smear of butter across the table and finally the sink, full to overflowing with their failures.

“Sorry, Mispy,” Harry said sheepishly. 

The house elf glared at him and waved an admonishing finger, “Terrible, Mister Potter.” She shook her head as she skipped her way down the stairs into the mess. She cleaned the table off with a quick brushing motion of her hand and then started cleaning the floor. She shooed him away once a path had been cleared, Harry knew it was just to keep him from tracking flour around the rest of the house as Draco undoubtedly had.

“I could help?” Harry offered.

She shook her head furiously, “You just slow Mispy down, go on,” she reached into a pocket on her pillowcase and pulled out a rather wrinkled and battered looking letter which she shoved into his hand as he went by, “Left this in your pocket of trousers in wash up.” She gave him another scolding look and then resumed her furious cleaning.

Harry glanced at back at her only briefly as he hurried out of the kitchen and wondered if Kreacher wasn't rubbing off on Mipsy in a rather negative fashion. He went to the sitting room and plopped down into the first chair, opening Blaise's apology letter that he had completely forgotten about and apparently almost washed.

_Potter,_

_I'm not sorry for what I did, though I could have done it better._

_If you're serious about Draco then you'll be the first serious_

_relationship he's ever had. Take care of him or I'll track_

_you down, rip your balls off, shove them down your_

_throat and watch you choke on them._

_ Most _ _Sincerely, Blaise Zabini_

Well. Harry refolded the letter contemplatively with a shake of his head. Apparently, Pansy had not read the letter to make sure it was _actually_ an apology. It had to be all true, though, Pansy would have noticed if Blaise broke out into boils if for no other reason than to tell everyone what had happened. He rather admired Blaise's brazenness, really, even if it was a little terrifying.

“Potter!” Draco shouted from somewhere upstairs.

Harry rolled his eyes and called back, “Sitting room!” as he shoved the letter into his pocket.

Draco looked a lot more relaxed when he walked in with his hair still wet. He was once again wearing some of Harry's sleep pants and a baggy tee shirt. The shirt was worn thin from age and might have been one of Dudley's old shirts from the 'good old days', but looked amazing on Draco, especially, the stretched out neck that exposed the sharp edge of his collarbone.

“I have a plan,” Draco said with a faint smug grin. 

“Oh really?” Harry said faintly, having trouble concentrating on anything past the flashes of pale skin.

Draco leaned over to glare at him, “Are you listening?”

“I'm trying,” Harry said without much conviction, “I can hardly think straight when you wear my clothes.”

“Why do you think I keep doing it?” Draco smirked.

Harry reached out and hooked a finger on the shirt's collar and pulled towards himself, stretching it further and tugging Draco to him, “You wicked Slytherin.” Harry said faintly.

Draco let himself be guided onto the chair, sliding a knee on either side of Harry's thighs and sitting on his lap, “The word you're looking for is cunning.”

“What's your plan?” Harry asked, running his fingers along the hollow of Draco's throat.

He leaned forward and kissed Harry. “Not telling,” Draco said against his mouth.

Harry smiled ruefully and shook his head, “Of course you're not.”

“I've also decided that you're going to teach me about grappling to compensate for my great sacrifice,” Draco added loftily. 

“Great sacrifice?” Harry snorted, “Baking with Molly Weasley is not a great sacrifice.”

“Says you,” Draco sniffed.

Harry bit the skin in the curve of Draco's neck a little harder than necessary so Draco yelped. Harry smirked as he sucked a mark into the pale skin.

“I'll teach you grappling and restraining techniques,” Harry said as he pulled back to admire his work, brushing his thumb over the darkening mark, “It's boring when I win all the time anyway.”

Draco's eyes glinted dangerously, “I'm going to kick your arse, Potter.”

“You wish, Malfoy,” Harry smiled and wrapped a hand around the back of Draco's neck and pulled him into a kiss. 

* * *

* * *

  


Friday

  


Harry only worked until lunch, taking half the day off to go with Draco to the Burrow and learn how to make his mother's chocolate chip biscuits. Molly had been very excited at the idea of teaching them how to bake. He just hoped she would still be excited after she met Draco; he had insisted, so Molly still didn't know who _his boy_ was. 

It had something to do with Draco's plan, Harry was certain. He was also certain that whatever clever ass plan Draco had cooked up would just as likely blow up in his face. Harry had spent the day resigning himself to the idea that he might have to do a lot of damage control and smoothing over. He had also bought a tin of the nice biscuits and hid them away in the kitchen, just in case everything went totally tits up.

Mipsy was waiting with lunch when he got to Grimmauld and told Harry that Draco would be back after he ran an errand to buy something important. Harry ate in the quiet kitchen and let himself worry. He knew Draco had some money with him when he left the manor and had adamantly refused Harry's offers to give him money or pay him for his work in the garden. It was stubborn pride but Harry worried what the stupid stubborn ass would do when he ran out.

Harry sighed.

At least he wouldn't starve since Mipsy had the same access to a  
household spending account for Grimmauld Place as Kreacher. Draco  
also wasn't going to run out of clothes since he had brought his  
whole wardrobe in a bottomless chest He could probably clothe an  
entire family for the rest of their lives with the size of his  
wardrobe. He'd complain, though. Or pretend he wasn't bothered at all,  
it depended on whether pride or pratishness won out.

Harry absentmindedly sent his dishes to the sink and leaned his elbows on  
the table.

He hoped in a month or two, maybe Lucius would lighten up enough that Draco could feel comfortable talking with him again and they could smooth things over. As it was, Hermione continued to bring news of Lucius' being a suspicious wanker like some sort of Delphi oracle. One of these days Harry would draw up the nerve to suggest to Draco that he simply _apologize_ to Hermione. He kept putting it off because Draco reacted to apologies like a child reacted to taking cod liver oil.

He wondered for about the thousandth time how he had come to fancy such a difficult bloke and was rewarded with a voice in his head, that sounded a lot like Hermione, reminding him that he was just as difficult. 

Harry pushed himself up from the table and went back up to the main floor heading to the sitting room. The front door crashed open and then slammed closed as Draco hurried in looking harried and holding a large bouquet of flowers, which he immediately pushing into Harry's hands with a short, “Hold these,” and then hurried upstairs.

Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up and listening to the faint creaks and rattles as Draco went to his closet and then just as quickly was headed down the stairs buttoning up a fresh blue shirt as he went.

“Are these part of the plan?” Harry asked rustling the thin brown tissue wrapped around the flowers. He looked at the bouquet curiously. He didn't know most of the flowers but the main flowers in the center were a mix of red poppies and white lilac that filled the air with a sweet perfume. Around the poppies and lilac there were two different types of smaller pink flowers and two smaller white flowers. Ferns and a smaller green leafed plant interspersed the whole arrangement to try and balance it together although the different sized flowers didn't quite mesh. He was certain a lot of these weren't currently in season so Draco must have gone to a wizarding florist. He vaguely remembered there being a flower shop beside George's shop in Diagon Alley.

Draco carefully buttoned his cuffs and straightened them, “They are integral to the plan, Potter.”

“I don't know if Molly has ever been hugely into flowers,” Harry said trying not to be worried.

“She's a pure blood,” Draco said,

Harry's brow furrowed, “Well...”

“She was raised as a pure blood,” Draco said shortly, “That's what's important. You may not understand but she will.” He took the flowers back and glared at where Harry had crumpled the thin tissue.

“Do you want to floo or apparate?”

Draco snapped at him, “You can't floo with flowers, Potter!”

“Oh, of course, I would know that, wouldn't I?” Harry said sarcastically.

“As if I would have any idea about your past flower delivery exploits,” Draco sniffed and headed for the door, “Come along or we shall be late.”

“You're the one who was off buying flowers or we could have left ages ago!” Harry said.

“The flowers are important, Potter!” Draco reiterated loudly as they stepped outside.

Harry reset the wards and grabbed Draco's arm, “For the plan.” he rolled his eyes, “Riiight.” and side-alonged Draco to just outside the Burrow's garden gate.

“Right, ok,” Draco said under his breath, straightening the flowers and running a hand over his hair to make sure it was still smooth. The brown tissue paper crinkled loudly in the quiet countryside as Draco tightened his grip and Harry fancied he could smell peppermint.

Harry thought he might look a little pale and pressed a hand against Draco's lower back, “It'll be fine.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the strange rambling building as it reached up higglty-pigglty towards the sky with all its random additions for each Weasley child born. He sniffed and took a deep breath, drawing himself up, “Of course it will. What's this place called, anyhow? I remember it had a name.”

Harry closed his eyes with a sigh, “The Burrow.”

Draco's brows rose slowly, “The Burrow?”

Harry nodded.

Draco made a faint choking noise in the back of his throat, “They're named Weasley and they live in _The Burrow_?

“Yes,” Harry said flatly.

“And I'm not allowed to bring up how absolutely ridiculous that is?” Draco said faintly.

Harry shook his head, “No, you're not.”

Draco studied him.

Harry shifted his weight, “What?”

Draco let out a huff, “The things I do-”

“What?” Harry smiled faintly in confusion and nudged Draco with his elbow, “Look at the bright side, you can tell Pansy and Blaise all about it if you like.” He opened the gate and held it for Draco.

“Small mercies,” Draco said. He reached into the bouquet and plucked out a small cluster of white flowers that were bunched on a single leafy stem like a button. He broke the stem short and snapped off the leaves with his thumb and then tucked the flower over Harry's ear, brushing his hair back as he dropped his hand. 

Harry felt himself start to flush at the serious look on Draco's face. The flower felt so strangely out of place and somehow intensely personal. “You're ridiculous,” Harry muttered, ducking his head and hurried over to the front door. He pulled the flower out of his hair and dropped it into the pocket on the front of his tee shirt and tapped a quick warning knock before pushing the door open.

“Molly! We're here!” He stepped inside first and smiled broadly when Molly bustled out from the living room, her arms already open to sweep him into a hug.

Behind him Draco pushed the door closed with a soft click.

Harry kept one hand on her back as he turned and put his other hand on Draco's shoulder, “Molly, this is Draco Malfoy,” he said, his voice a little too quiet with anxiety, “my boyfriend.” 

Harry felt Draco start slightly at the word and realized he'd never used it before. Harry felt his face get hot again and wondered if this sort of thing ever got easier, he doubted it.

His quiet seemed to infect the two of them as Draco seemed frozen with nerves. The bob of his throat as he swallowed was the only flicker of movement on him. Molly let out a breath that seemed laced with resignation and the small sound restarted the world.

The flowers in Draco's hand trembled with nervous energy as he held them out.

Molly's mouth pursed and for a second Harry thought she might not take them. Then her gaze shifted away from Draco and she seemed to focus on the flowers and her eyes widened slightly, “Red poppies and lilac.” she said faintly. She pushed the tissue aside to look at the rest of the flowers more carefully. She nodded to herself, “Snow drops, star of bethlehem, filibert...” she paused and her brow furrowed, “Daphne- something, bother.”

“Daphne odora,” Draco said faintly.

“Yes, that's it,” she nodded again and reached into the flowers, touching the fern and rolling the other green leafy plant between her fingers to release the smell of peppermint into the air, “Peppermint and fern.” She let go and looked up at Draco, tilting her head slightly as if trying to figure him out.

Harry bit his lip, looking from Molly to Draco.

Molly glanced at Harry, giving him a fond little, motherly smile and then said to Draco, “I'll accept them.”

Draco's shoulders dipped with the sudden release of tension.

Molly scooped up the flowers into her arms and bobbed forward in a little bow.

Draco bowed deeper in return, linking his hands behind the small of his back as he did.

“Goodness, I haven't fussed with the old rituals for years,” Molly laughed and her eyes were shining with amusement “You're not good with your words are you?”

A faint flush rose on Draco's cheeks as he stood, arms still behind his back more out of pure awkwardness than anything else.

“Come on then boys, there's baking to do.” Molly said turning and heading into the house, conjuring a vase for the flowers as she passed the table and filling it with water.

Harry bumped Draco's shoulder with a grin.

Draco returned Harry grin with a smirk and said quietly, “I told you my plan would work.”

“I have no idea what happened but I'm sure it was brilliant,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head faintly, “You are tragic, Potter.”

“A product of my upbringing,” Harry said and took Draco by the hand leading him through the crowded winding dining room and living room into the cozy kitchen. Gleaming, well-used pots hung from hooks, bundles of herbs dried along the wall and crystal baubles spun lazily in front of the large window looking out to the rolling meadows. 

Harry immediately felt at ease and relaxed into the space with a sigh. Draco looked around apprehensively.

“Alright, what are we making?” Molly said putting on a faded flower apron, “I didn't know you had any interest in baking, Harry.”

Harry shook his head as Draco pulled the now somewhat battered recipe from his pocket and held it out.

Draco cleared his throat faintly and said, “It's- I think my mother would make these for me as a child and well-” He flushed very faintly, “-she's coming to Grimmauld for tea tomorrow and I...” He took a deep breath, “I would like to make them for her.”

Molly smiled and it went straight to her eyes, crinkling them deeply in the corners as she tsked fondly at Draco, “How lovely.”

Draco flushed further, too embarrassed to reply.

Molly took one of the other aprons off the wall the green patched with scraps of cloth cut into leaf shapes and held it out to Draco, “Put this on.”

He took the apron and mostly managed to hide his dismay as he held it out and then pulled it grudgingly over his head. He shot a glare at Harry, “Not a word.”

Harry smothered a grin at the sight of the poised prat tying an apron around his back. He desperately wished he had a camera.

Molly pulled open a bottom cupboard, clattering around as she found her bowls and scale, “Roll up your sleeves. No need to risk ruining your nice shirt.” Molly said as she moved a large ceramic bowl to the center work table.

Harry winced.

Draco hesitated, he said quietly, “Perhaps, it would be better if I did not.”

Molly was unmoved, “Roll them up.” She said in her mum tone, putting her hands on her hips.

Draco looked down, his eyes flickering with discomfort. He rolled up his right sleeve to his elbow in a few deft movements. His hand shook faintly as he tried to undo the button on the cuff of his left sleeve, managing it after a few tries and practically shoving the sleeve up in his haste to get it over with.

Molly's hand darted out and grabbed his wrist pulling his left arm out and twisting it up, exposing the faded grey lines of the dark mark. A sliver of rainbow light spilled from of the crystals in the window and spun across Draco's pale skin.

Molly hmmed, she looked from the mark, up at Draco's pale face and then back at the mark. Without preamble, she slapped her hand across his arm with a crack.

Both Harry and Draco jumped with shock. Draco's eyes went wide.

A faint red color bloomed across Draco's skin.

“There. Feel better now?” Molly said lightly.

Draco let out a startled, shaky laugh. “Strangely, I do,” he said with relief.

Molly quirked a smile and Draco met it with one of his own.

Harry had no idea what had just happened.

“Good,” Molly said releasing his arm, “Now, we have biscuits to make,” She looked around and snatched up a notepad from the counter, tearing off the top sheet and pushing it into Harry's hands, “Harry, love, pop down to the market and pick these up would you?”

Harry protested, “But I thought I could help-”

“Nonsense, Draco can teach you later if you want. You'll be in charge of dinner tonight.” She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder steering him out of the kitchen, “Don't make that face, I'll still be here in case everything goes wobbly.”

Harry glanced back at Draco. He looked remarkably relaxed considering the circumstances. So, Harry tightened his grip on the shopping list and made his way out of the house. He tried to be quick but it still took almost an hour to buy everything. He slipped back into the house and eased the door shut behind him, the house smelled deliciously like fresh biscuits. He could hear the low murmur of Draco's voice. 

As he got closer to the kitchen, resizing his bags as he went he heard Molly reply, “...actions do speak but not always louder than words,” Molly sighed, “The important things need to be said.”

“...I know,” Draco conceded with a sigh, “It doesn't make it any easier.”

Molly laughed, “Oh but it does! Every time will make the next easier, you'll see-” She stopped and turned as Harry stepped into the kitchen, hoisting his bags onto the counter, “Did you find everything, Harry?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I almost-”

“Potter.” Draco cut him off sharply, his eyes flashing, “Why did I have to find out about your birthday party _next week_ from Molly, instead of _you_?”

Harry's brain lurched to a halt at hearing Draco call Molly, _Molly,_ but his mouth parroted blankly, “Birthday? Next week?” His brow furrowed, “It's the end of July already?”

Molly shook her head with an exasperated sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lilac- humility  
> red poppy- consolation  
> star of Bethlehem- I'm sorry  
> filibert- reconciliation  
> snow drop- consolation and hope  
> daphne odora- desire to please  
> fern- sincerity  
> peppermint- warmth and cordiality  
> *  
> The flower Draco put in Harry's hair was daphne odora


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, a bit short this week, next chapter might be short too until I can see my chiropractor next week and get my back put back in.  
> Also started another story for valentines day, called [Date of a Lifetime](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9453053). Maybe take a look?

Same day

  


Molly dusted the flour from her hands, “Next Saturday, all your friends are coming over. You'll come as well, Draco?” Before he could even begin to waffle she patted his arm and went on cheerily, “You come to dinner on sunday as well, Bill won't be here and it will give you a chance to talk with George. That will make things easier for you. I'm sure they'll come around. I'll have a word if they don't.” She used her wand to open the oven and a tray of biscuits floated out and settled a few inches above their heads to cool.

“I suppose,” Draco said crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did the baking go well?” Harry asked cheerfully trying to change the subject.

Draco narrowed his eyes, walked over to Harry and loomed impressively, being only two inches taller. Draco grabbed a biscuit from one of the already cooled trays and Harry sputtered as it was pushed into his mouth without warning.

Harry bit the biscuit in half, chewing it spitefully, and took the other half, lurching forward to shove it in Draco's face. Draco caught his wrist and they stumbled back into the counter. Harry grabbed Draco's arm and was about to break his hold and twist his elbow in a very painful and unnatural position when Molly cleared her throat, loudly and meaningfully. They both froze.

“That will be enough of that,” Molly said, a heavy warning in her tone and her wand in her hand.

They both let go and stepped back from one another looking petty and sheepish. Harry dropped the other half of the biscuit in his pocket with the aim of crumbling it in Draco's pants drawer later. He was not above petty revenge.

Molly looked them over and then nodded with a bit of a huff, “Good. The baking went well, Harry. The recipe is closer to an american cookie recipe than a biscuit recipe, chewy rather than crisp. The two of you might have managed quite a passable batch if you had chilled the dough before baking.”

Harry and looked over at Draco who shrugged, smoothing his hair back absentmindedly.

Molly went on, never losing her business like demeanor, “Now, Draco and I will clean up while you start on dinner, Harry.”

Harry smirked at Draco, enjoying the look of dismay on his face, “No house elves here, Malfoy.”

Before Draco could answer Molly tutted under her breath about house elves and Harry's glee only grew.

“What cleaning charms _do_ you know?” Molly asked.

Harry grinned.

“Scourgify,” Draco said lifting his chin.

Molly sighed, “Of course, a boy's best friend. Come here and I'll teach you a few more.” Before Harry could even snicker, she shot him a no-nonsense look, “You get started on the chicken, young man.”

Harry jumped a little and grabbed his shopping bags. He had to enjoy Draco's cleaning lessons from the corner of his eye as he hurried to get the chicken dressed and in the oven so it could cook while he started on the sides. He made far too much food, but in the Weasley household there was no such thing as unwelcome leftovers. 

Meanwhile, Draco was put to cleaning the kitchen. When he had finished and Harry was making a salad, Molly bustled Draco off into the living room where he could hear their voices but not make out what was said. He didn't _think_ Molly would scare Draco off, she hadn't so far, but he still felt a little prickle of worry. He really didn't want Draco going anywhere. 

He turned his head to follow the sound of their voices. Molly's tone of voice reminded Harry strongly of what he thought of as her supportive mum voice. Draco's tone was quieter still and very subdued. He was just finishing up when he heard their conversation stop and the sound of someone going upstairs.

“Are you quite finished, Potter?” Draco groused, holding onto the door frame and leaning into the kitchen

Harry rolled his eyes, levitating the chicken from the oven and setting it on the cook top to rest for a few minutes, “Five minutes, you prat. Is the table set?”

“Ages ago,” Draco said pointedly.

Harry flicked his wand at the side dishes, sending them floating out to the table nearly as neatly as Molly did.

“Show off.”

“Just get in here you, wanker,” Harry sighed.

Draco narrowed his eyes, “I'm not doing any more work. I refuse.”

“Fine, don't snog me then.” Harry said with a nonchalant shrug.

Draco stalked across the kitchen, pressing Harry tight to the counter, “That is _not_ work,” he said quietly, tilting his head to capture Harry's lips in his.

Harry hummed his approval, grabbing hold of Draco's hips and pulling him tight against himself. Harry knew they couldn't get _too_ carried away but Draco made that so hard to remember.

Draco had braced his hands on either side of the counter but soon one pressed into Harry's lower back, the other sliding through his hair and eliciting a soft moan. Harry let a hand slip down to grip Draco's ass, smirking into the kiss when Draco gasped. Draco pushed his knee between Harry's legs sliding his thigh between them as Harry pulled him closer, to bridge that last millimeter of distance and-

“Hey, Mum!? You in here?! I was hoping I could-FUCK! _FUCKING_ Fuck!” Ron jerked backward, tripping over himself and falling onto his ass, “Merlin's balls, Harry! This is the second time!” He clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away, “You are a shit friend, mate! A shit friend! I don't snog Hermione around you do I?!”

“Ergh,” Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought, reluctantly releasing his grip on Draco as the blond stepped back.

“That's right! Because I-” Ron groped blindly for the door frame and hauled himself upright, “-am a good friend!” He turned his back to them before, presumably, opening his eyes. “I mean, hell, just because I'm being supportive _does not_ mean I want to see that!” He threw in another beleaguered, “Merlin!” for good measure.

“Atrocious luck on your part, I'd have to agree,” Draco said with an annoyed sniff, “Quite worse luck on our part, seeing as you keep interrupting right before the fun part.” 

“Not in Mum's kitchen!” Ron snapped, spun around and froze, suddenly remembering what he had walked in on. 

Harry shifted the chicken from the pan to a serving dish.

Draco paused from picking up a cookie from cooling racks and raised an eyebrow.

“What?!” Ron snapped, his face going redder than it was.

The eyebrow rose a little higher as Draco held out the cookie in offering, “Nothing, I'm sure. I _was_ joking.”

Ron snatched the cookie from his hand and popped the whole thing in his mouth. “S'good. 

“That's the only one you get, Ronald,” Draco said, quickly moving the cooled cookies into a tin and firmly closing the lid, “The rest are for my mother.”

“Your mother?” Ron repeated in a shower of crumbs and dismay.

Draco pulled himself up proudly, “I made them myself, actually.”

“You made these?” Ron said faintly, pointing at the mush of crumbs in his mouth. “Gardening and now baking, Malfoy? Could you get any poncier?”

Draco's lip curled and he shot a stinging hex at Ron before he could react.

Ron yelped and rubbed his leg. He scowled and reached for his wand but Harry the room in two strides and caught his arm, pulling it back.

“You rather deserved that,” Harry said.

“But-!” Ron protested, his neck flushing beet red.

Draco looked faintly furious but he looked away, jaw clenching as he put his wand back in his pocket and raised his hands up briefly to show he was unarmed.

“Is everything ready?” Molly called as she came down the windy staircase and they all did their best impressions of being relaxed. “Ronald! I didn't know you were coming over!” She said fondly, wrapping Ron up in a hug.

“Hermione had work,” Ron mumbled still looking lost.

“It's so good to have you! We'll get some meat on your bones!” Molly whipped out her wand and took control of the chicken, floating it over their heads and escorting it to the table. “This looks lovely, Harry dear! Did you have any trouble?”

“No,” Harry called after her, “I doubt it will be as good as yours, though.”

“Experiences comes with time. Now everyone come sit, I'll collect Arthur he's somewhere...” her voice faded as she went off, likely to the shed, to find her errant husband.

Draco carefully slipped past Ron and out of the kitchen.

“He hexed me!” Ron muttered, tugging his arm loose from Harry's grip.

Harry scrubbed his hand through his hair, “Mate, look,” he said quietly, “before Malfoy moved in with me, probably only Pansy and maybe Zabini knew he liked blokes. And he's a Malfoy with all the pureblooded rubbish and his dad _is_ rubbish. It's not as easy for him as it is for me or Charlie.” Harry sighed, “Just lay off, alright?”

Ron nodded reluctantly, “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Good!” Harry clapped him on the shoulder with a smile and towed him out to the dining room where Draco was carefully setting another place and trying not to look put out.

Harry sat next to Draco on one side of the table, Molly and Ron at the other with Arthur at the head where they had a lovely evening of stilted conversation, mostly filled in by Molly talking about the day. She called Draco a ' _lovely boy'_ at least twelve different times and mentioned him ' _not being at a like his father_ ' three times while looking significantly at Arthur who at gave a small nod by the third one. Arthur was very polite to Draco and Draco was obsessively polite back, all stiff and formal like he spoke to his own father. There was a line of tension that ran through him like he was bracing for everything to snap. It didn't. 

With Ron there, it turned out Harry had made just enough food and Molly pulled out a pie for dessert, blueberry, which melted some of the tension out of Draco. Molly took all the washing up back to the kitchen and Arthur, _'left them to it_ ' so Ron, Harry, and Draco were alone at the table.

Under the table, Ron's feet kicked noisily against the floor.

Harry nursed a too sweet cup of tea and looked over at Draco as he rubbed his temples and then pushed his hair back.

“Erm, before I head home, or you do,” Ron said, “I was hoping to talk you. I actually went to Grimmauld place first. ...Bit of a shock you were here instead.” He tried to put on a grin but it came across very awkward.

Draco sighed and refilled his mug with tea, pouring in the last of the cream with resignation, “Get on with it then.”

Harry nodded in agreement.

Ron brightened up a little before sinking back into nervous fidgeting, “Well,” he glanced around worriedly and then cast a muffling spell just in case, “I'm going to propose to Hermione.”

Harry's eyes widened and he grinned with a laugh, “Finally! Good on you!”

Draco hmmed politely.

“I'm just not sure how to go about it,” Ron said with a flush, “I want it to be good, you know?”

Harry's brow furrowed, “I'm not sure-”

“Not you. Bugger. Sorry, Harry, but you're as rubbish at this kind of stuff as I am,” Ron said quickly while trying his best not to burst into flames of embarrassment.

Draco's eyebrows rose, then he slowly sat back in his chair and smirked.

“I know I berked it up in the kitchen,” Ron said to Draco while absolutely not looking at him, “but I could really use some advice and you're the err...” he struggled for the right word, “ _poshest_ bloke I know.”

“Ponciest as well,” Draco said with a pointed look as he took a sip of tea, never looking away from Ron. Harry could tell he was enjoying watching Ron squirm.

“Draco and Hermione aren't exactly on the best of terms,” Harry said.

Ron said, “Doesn't mean he won't have some sort of brilliant, romantic idea in general!” 

“Brilliant certainly,” Draco said, smirking happily, “and helping out will certainly put a mark in my favor towards winning Granger over...” he cradled his mug in both hands as he thought.

Ron leaned forward hopefully.

“When are you going to ask her?” Harry asked.

Ron fidgeted, “Soon?”

“You have the ring, at least?” Draco asked, “Or is she the type to want to pick out her own?”

“She told me what she wanted so I got that,” Ron said with a shrug, “Thing is, I think if I don't ask soon, _she will_ , and she won't be pleased. She really wants me to ask her, properly.”

“I wouldn't have thought Hermione would be so traditional,” Harry said.

Ron grimaced, “Nah, mate. It's more about romance, I think. She said if I asked her father for her hand in marriage she'd wallop me.” He looked questioningly at Harry, “Why would I ask her father for just her hand? Is that a muggle thing?”

Harry laughed, “Yeah, it's a muggle thing.”

“She's still a know-it-all that reads far too much?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry quickly answered, before Ron could get mad and nudged Draco with his elbow for good measure.

“I have an idea then.” Draco said and smiled, entirely too pleased with himself.

Ron leaned further forward, practically laying across the table, “What?”

Harry rolled his eyes in anticipation of the answer.

“Not telling.”

There is was. Harry elbowed Draco again and got an elbow back for his trouble.

Draco glared at Harry and cleared his throat, “As I was going to say- When I see my mother tomorrow, I have to ask after something. if I can get it, I shall tell you what to do sunday evening.”

Sunday I'll be here,” Ron said, “Suppose I could drop by after.”

“I'll be here as well,” Draco drawled, “Molly didn't give me much choice in the matter.”

Harry saw that same expression of shock on Ron's face that must have been mirrored on his own when he had first heard Draco call Molly, _Molly_. 

Harry waved a hand in front of Ron's face and he jumped, mouthing  _Molly_ silently before saying hoarsely, “It's a romantic idea?”

“Granger romantic,” Draco said and finished his tea. “I think we should be off, Potter. Tomorrow is going to be exhausting.”

Harry nodded and accioed Draco's tin of cookies from the kitchen.

Ron stood when they did, coming round the table to shake Draco's hand, “Thanks for helping, Malfoy. You're really starting to grow on me.”

Draco's lip curled, “I hope not.”

Harry laughed, “Too late, Malfoy. If Molly likes you it's only a matter of time before they all do.”

Draco looked mildly horrified, “Weasley's are infectious?”

“Hey!” Ron protested.

“Could be,” Harry said.

“Come on!” Ron gave his shoulder a shove.

Harry returned the gesture with a teasing, “They're alright, though.”

“The last thing I need to be is surrounded by a mob of gingers,” Draco grimaced, “Red looks awful with my skin tone.”

Ron gave Harry a  _Come on with this_ , expression and gestured emphatically at Draco, saying ponce with everything but words.

Draco smacked Ron's hand away, “Another hex can be arranged, Ronald. How'd you like some boils on your freckled arse?” His nose wrinkled and he shuddered, “Circe, why did I have to put that image in my head.”

“Serves you right,” Ron muttered.

“Brilliant all round. Let's call it a night,” Harry sighed, taking hold of Draco's arm and pulling him to the door before the two of them could ruin all their own hard work in getting along.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this chapter was so long in coming. I tried to do two different stories for Valentine's day and rather overwhelmed myself. Something had to give so I put this on pause. but it's back now! Which is good I hope.

  


Saturday

  


Harry stifled a yawn and leaned against the door frame of the tapestry drawing room on the first floor. It was the cleanest Harry had ever seen it, both Mipsy and Draco having spent over an hour throwing magic at the room, managing to out-stubborn the stubborn house into something half decent looking. Everything still looked faded and shabby, though. 

His desk had been pushed to the corner, all the parchment and quills tucked away so the poor thing almost didn't look used. The Black family tapestry had been dusted but the scorch marks still showed in stark relief to the rest of the faded fabric. Draco had pulled the heavy velvet curtains back, filling the room with a muted yellow-tinted light that was dancing with defiant dust motes.

“Why are you just standing there, Potter, when you could be useful?” Draco said, his wand shifting the round table three inches to the left, furrowing his brow and then shifting one of the chairs over as well. The table was made of wood so dark it looked black. Mipsy had found a white tablecloth for it that looked strangely out of place, a spot of vibrancy in the muted room.

“And what would you have me do then?” Harry asked. 

Draco paused in his minute adjustments and narrowed his eyes, “No, you're right, you'd be no help at all.”

“Prat,” Harry snorted and shook his head.

Draco turned to surveyed room as a whole and flicked a hand at him, “As you were.”

Harry still thought that Draco should have swapped out the old stiff floral-print furniture with its thin cushions and thin wood arms for some of his wonderful plush furniture down in the big drawing room. The two purple chairs and the smaller grey sofa would have been perfect but apparently slouching wasn't allowed at a formal tea service. Harry just considered it being comfortable and there was nothing wrong with that.

The tempus Draco had cast next to the door had faded so that the numbers were as faint as fog. Harry could just barely make out that it was almost time for Narcissa to arrive. He glanced at Draco, waited until his back was turned, and then recast it, pushing the time back a half an hour. 

“I'll just check on the tea service then, shall I?” Harry said.

Draco glanced at the time and nodded absently, “Good, yes, you do that,” He looked Harry over, his mouth pursing briefly, “Stop slouching, you'll wrinkle my shirt and remember, keep your hands out of your hair for once.”

“Alright,” Harry said pushing off the doorframe and heading down the stairs. He looked down at the white button down Draco had told him to wear and quirked a smile. He didn't head for the kitchen, there was no point, Mipsy would do a good job regardless of whether he checked or not. Harry eased the front door open, casting a silencing spell on the hinges to be safe, and slipped outside, sitting down on the step to wait. 

The front of the house was cast in shadow as the sun crept behind him. Heat prickled over his skin just on the edge of uncomfortable. Harry unbuttoned his cuffs and pushed them up his forearms. He didn't wear white much because it was too hard to keep clean but it contrasted nicely against his skin.

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye made Harry look up. He couldn't see what had caught his attention at first, then his eyes picked up on the slight waver, like a heat haze, moving towards Grimmauld Place.The secret to spotting a disillusionment spell was to watch it from the edges of his vision. He hadn't told anyone else the secret, the last thing he wanted was to make it easier for strangers to follow him without him knowing. 

Harry turned his head to watch as the figure paused in front of the house and then, after a few moments, walked forward. He didn't move until they stepped through the wards he had set when he moved in.

“Mrs. Malfoy?” Harry said, standing up and brushing his trousers off, dark grey, also picked out by Draco.

There was silence and the sense of wary hesitation.

Harry smiled, “You're inside the wards. No one can see us now that doesn't already know where Grimmauld Place is and that's not a very long list.”

“That now includes a Malfoy,” Narcissa's gentle melodious voice said as the disillusionment spell dissolved around her, “Some might say that's very foolish of you Mr. Potter.”

“It includes two Malfoy's, actually.” Harry said, stepping down onto the walk beside her.

Narcissa was wearing lavender silk robes, her long blond hair pulled up in an intricate bun. There was a pinch of worry in her expression, “My son really is staying here?”

Harry nodded, “He's been fussing in the sitting room all morning.”

She studied him carefully before offering her hand, “Narcissa Malfoy,” she said formally. 

“Harry Potter, you can call me Harry if you want.,” Harry took her hand, bending over it to ghost a kiss across the back, tucking his other arm behind his back. Draco had said it was an old sign of respect, a hand behind that back can cast no spells. “A pleasure to meet you, properly this time, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said as he stood.

Her expression flickered but whatever emotion it held was gone before he could see, “You may call me Narcissa. I'm surprised Draco wasn't here to greet me.” She said it as a statement but Harry heard the question in it.

“I changed his tempus.” Harry said, “I wanted a chance to talk to you alone.”

She nodded as if she had excepted this, gently clasping her hands together in front of herself and waiting for him to speak.

Harry absently ruffled his hand through his hair, “When you told Draco that you just wanted him to be happy and that you would support him, no matter what he wanted to do; did you mean it?”

He saw a brief flash of surprise before she re-masked her face.

She said coolly, “Why is it any concern of yours?”

Harry tugged at his hair again and then guiltily remembered he wasn't supposed to and tried to smooth it down, for all the good it would do. His brow furrowed slightly, “He has Pansy and Zabini but having your support would mean the world to him.”

She was studying him and Harry smiled ruefully. Narcissa was better at hiding her expressions than Draco but one thing never really changed, through it had taken him a long time to be able to see it himself, was the kindness in her eyes.

He went on, “I understand better than most how important it is to have people you can count on. Draco doesn't have very many people like that.”

One eyebrow twitching up, “Do you not include yourself amongst those who he can count on?” Narcissa asked.

“Oh,” Harry blinked, “I- er...” he trailed off, feeling flushed, “I'd like to.”

“But you don't know?” She asked.

Harry bit his lip absently, glancing down at the ground before looking up to meet Narcissa's blue eyes, “He's very proud,” he shrugged helplessly.

Narcissa nodded in agreement. “I meant what I said,” she replied to his earlier question, her expression softening slightly.

Harry relaxed, “That's good.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the front door.

“Oh, right,” Harry took the hint and climbed back up the steps, opening the door holding it open for her. Narcissa stepped inside, walking over to Aunt Walburga's portrait as Harry closed the door behind them.

“Be nice,” Harry warned the portrait who was glaring at Harry furiously.

“I have no reason not to be nice to her, unlike some blood-traitors and half-breeds.” Walburga hissed.

Harry shook his head and picked up the roll of duct tape from the nail next to the portrait and tore off a strip, putting it atop of a layer of nine other strips across the bottom of the frame, “And you were doing so well.”

Walburga had her mouth pinched into a thin line of fury but, as Harry hefted the duct tape meaningfully, she held her tongue and he put it back on the nail.

Narcissa was watching him with confusion and amusement.

“If she's good for a week, I take a strip of tape off. If she's rude, I put a strip on.” Harry explained, “For a while, after I first moved in she was totally covered in the stuff.”

“Awful muggle creation,” Walburga muttered, then said sweetly to Narcissa, “It's wonderful to see you, Narcissa dear. It's been too long. It's been lovely having young Draco here but you really ought to talk to him about his horrid muggle clothing. It's entirely inappropriate. As well as the company he keeps these days,” she tutted and glared at Harry. 

Narcissa murmured a greeting, already turning away from the portrait to look around the entrance hall.

“Would you like the curtains drawn, Walburga?” Harry asked as kindly as he could manage.

“Yes,” She said stiffly.

Harry dropped the curtains around the portrait and found Narcissa a few steps down the hall looking into the drawing room.

“You turned the dining room into a sitting room,” she said.

“Well, I don't really need a formal dining room. You've been here before?” Harry asked.

Narcissa nodded stiffly, “We would visit often in the summer when I was young.” She stepped inside, sliding her hand along the faded wallpaper, “It looks almost unchanged.”

Harry nodded with a sigh, “I can bring new things in but changing what's already here is almost impossible, the magic just won't take. I managed to put in a door connecting my room with the bathroom but that's about it.”

“I see,” she said quietly, turning and looking around the room again.

“Kreacher will be happy to see you again,” Harry said, “He's been in a good mood since he found out you were-” Harry broke off as he heard the floor creak above him, quickly followed by the stairs as Draco came down in a rush. He glanced into the drawing room and saw Narcissa step close to the wall and out of sight.

Draco's beleaguered sigh drew Harry's attention back to him.

“I told you not to touch your hair, Harry,” Draco said, reaching into the mess to tug and pat pointlessly at the wild curls. “It looked halfway decent before and now we don't have time to fix it.”

“I could go stick my head under the faucet?” Harry offered jokingly. He didn't like the look of serious contemplation on Draco's face. “I wasn't serious!”

“A shame,” Draco said, his mouth quirking into a teasing smile as he pulled Harry's sleeves down and rebuttoned the cuffs. He ran his hands down Harry's forearms, smoothing some of the wrinkles from the pristine white fabric. “Did you check the tea service?”

“It's fine,” Harry said taking Draco's hands in his and squeezing them, “Mipsy's probably set a million teas in her life, Kreacher's so pleased he's even smiled, and your mum is lovely. Everything will be fine.”

Draco sighed and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so charmingly deluded.”

“I have,” Harry said, “he's not very self-aware.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “Arse.”

“Prat,” Harry countered with a laugh.

Draco silenced him with a quick chaste kiss.

Narcissa stepped out of the sitting room. “Shall we have tea?” she said with quiet amusement.

“Mum!?” Draco jumped, going pale.

Harry squeezed Draco's hands, trying desperately not to burst out laughing.

Draco looked from his mother to Harry, his shock quickly shifting to anger. “Potter,” he said testily, “How long has my mother been here?” His grip on Harry's hands verged on uncomfortable.

Harry suddenly felt uncertain, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

“Not long,” Narcissa said and pulled Draco into a hug, “I'm so glad to see you, Draco. How have you been?”

Draco hesitantly hugged her back as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands, “I've been well.”

She stepped back, her hands on still on his arms and looked him over. The corners of her mouth twitched, “Have you been forgetting your sunscreen charms?” she leaned closer, going up on her tiptoes to get a closer look at Draco's face.

“What is it?” Draco stiffened uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

She reached up and brushed a finger across his cheek, “You're freckling.”

Draco looked horrified, “I most certainly am not!”

There _was_ a faint dusting of freckles on the bridge of Draco's nose and across the top of his cheeks that had shown up after his second sunburn. Harry had very carefully never mentioned them because he loved them and was entirely certain his vain pasty little arsehole wouldn't.

Harry said quickly, “Should we have tea? Or maybe you want to show Narcissa the garden?”

“There's not much to show,” Draco said distractedly, his brow furrowing as he traced his cheeks with his hands.

“Draco is fixing up the garden out back,” Harry told Narcissa.

“Is he?” She said glancing from Harry to Draco, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Malfoy's don't freckle,” Draco grumbled, shooting Harry a look.

Narcissa sighed and shook her head thoughtfully, “Tell me about the garden, Draco.” She took his arm in hers and nodded to Harry towards the stairs.

Harry hurried up them and held open the door to the sitting room. As Draco and Narcissa passed him, he heard them talking about the garden out back, which Narcissa had played in as a girl and Draco was clearing out and trying to coax into something not overgrown and dead.

Narcissa took one of the small spindly chairs and Draco took the other, leaving Harry on the faded little couch feeling strangely exposed.

Tea appeared on the table with the faintest of rattles, a fine bone china teapot and a set of teacups Harry had never seen before sat on a silver tray that was trying it's best not to be as tarnished as it was. The tea set was decorated with little silver and green snakes. Harry wasn't terribly surprised. A platter arrived next, with Draco's cookies taking up most of the plate, with a few of the fancy biscuits Harry thought he had hidden away.

Draco had told Harry, that as the host, he was supposed to pour and offer tea. He had thought it was fussy but now he was just happy to have something to do with his hands. He poured Narcissa's tea first, putting in the barest touch of sugar and a splash of cream, then Draco's with an absurd amount of cream. 

When he looked up from making his own tea, Harry saw Narcissa watching him closely.

“Surely, you've been doing more than working in the garden the last three weeks,” Narcissa said, never quite tearing her eyes away from Harry.

Draco picked up his tea cup, cradling it in his hands like he held his mug in the mornings, “I've been brewing as well, potions related to plants, growing and pest control. Nothing interesting.”

“Nothing interesting?” Narcissa raised an eyebrow and set her cup back in its saucer with a faint rattle, “Nothing such as a giant beanstalk appearing on one of the Hogwarts towers?”

Draco twitched, his eyes widening, “How-?”

“I read the paper, Draco.” She gave him an unruffled look, “The reporter couldn't get on the grounds to learn more but the pictures were quite impressive. Of course, I didn't know you had anything to do with it until just now.” She hid a smile behind a sip of tea.

Draco flushed very faintly and told his mother about the giant beanstalk and the other potions he tested. Harry couldn't help but notice how Draco left out all the _people_ in his story, Neville and McGonagall and _him_. In the end, it wasn't much of a story at all, not like one of _Draco's_ stories.

Then she asked, “And the flowers, who were they for?” Narcissa's eyes slid over to Harry.

“The paper again?” Draco sighed and went on without waiting for an answer, “They were to make amends to someone.”

“You really should take more care,” Narcissa said, “The story wasn't much, speculation about who you might be wooing, but the wrong sort of conjecture can ruin one's reputation.”

“As if I have a reputation worth worrying over,” Draco scoffed darkly.

Harry realized he was staring at his cup in hands without really seeing it and glanced up. Draco held his own cup in his hands, one hand around the delicate china, the other absently tracing the rim of the cup. Round and round, his finger traced and Harry sharply recalled another pair of hands, a black cane being twisted round and round between, worried? anxious? upset? hands. Was it the same emotion or a similar movement for an entirely different feeling? What did it mean? Why did it make Harry feel so anxious and irritated and _angry_?

“Harry,” Narcissa said pulling him from his thoughts, “You haven't touched your tea. Are you feeling well?”

Harry looked down at his untouched tea, his brow furrowing, “Did he tell you he baked the biscuits- cookies for you?”

Draco twitched, nearly upsetting his cup.

“Draco got the flowers to make up to Molly Weasley and ask her to teach him how to bake them-”

“Potter.” Draco said stiffly, a note of warning in his tone.

“-and he's been working with Neville Longbottom on the plant potions-”

Draco leaned over the table with a hissed, “Potter!”

“and he's been trying to get on with-”

Draco's hand snapped around Harry's wrist, lukewarm tea splashed over his hand, staining the edge of the white shirt, “What are you doing?” Draco said quietly, his face pale, his whole body taut like a bowstring.

Harry tried to jerk his hand free, not caring that his knee and the carpet were soaked with tea, “What am I doing?!” he said dropping the cup on the table with a loud rattle, “What are you doing? This isn't like you!”

Draco grip tightening on Harry's arm. He stood, his voice rising with him with a cutting, mocking tone, “Not like me? What am I _supposed_ to-”

“Not this!” Harry snapped, lurching to his feet, “You're acting like your _father_!”

Harry jerked backward at his own words, legs hitting the sofa. 

Draco let go of his arm.

“I-” Harry's throat threatened to close on him, so tight it hurt, “I shouldn't have said that. I-”

Harry watched as Draco slowly straightened, his back tightening into a rigid line, every emotion locked away. The fingers of his outstretched hand slowly curled in, tightening into a fist as he pressed his arm across his abdomen.

Narcissa stood, shifting her robes as she moved so they flowed out in front of her. “Show me the garden, Draco.” her voice was very quiet but carried its own undisobeyable mum tone. She pressed her hand to his arm, seemingly pulling Draco to his feet like a spell and guiding him ahead of her to the door. 

In the space of Draco pulling the door open and stepping out into the hall, Narcissa turned, wrapping her arms around Harry in a hug so light and brief it felt like a whisper and murmured in his ear, “It will be ok, James.” She smiled as she pulled away and rejoined Draco, heading downstairs toward the back garden.

Harry stood there frozen, each too-loud breath a ticking clock in his mind. His stomach ached and he felt a sharp point of pain form on the top of his lungs, searing into him when he tried to take a deep breath.

He should clean up the spilled tea. He should put it under a stasis charm. He should tell Mipsy and Kreacher that...

Harry found his feet carrying him upstairs past the empty guest rooms on the next floor, and past Sirius' old room on the next. The doorknob to Regulus' room was cold on his palm and the hinges creaked faintly as the door opened. He left the lights off as he stepped inside, three steps to the bed that seemed so small. He circled around to the other side, sitting on the edge of the bed and facing the wall.

Light leaked around the drawn curtains of the room's one window. Harry splayed his fingers across the green duvet, sliding his hands back and forth across the coarse, heavy fabric. He breathed deep, both savoring the tight pain in his chest and trying to breathe through it, working it loose until he could breath easy again.

He let his gaze wander, from the drapes to the dresser still piled with books and a tidy stack of parchment from Regulus' last year in school, some marked by McGonagall small sharp writing. Slytherin pendants on faded felt were tacked across the room. A paler patch of plaster showed where the newspaper clippings had been, Harry had carefully removed them and put them in the bottom of a drawer not long after he had moved in. 

In the corner was a small bookshelf, mostly filled with his old textbooks but also all Regulus' favorite books from when he was young. They were all stories about brave heroes, and worlds made perfect by great acts and righteous-minded people. Harry imagined that once Regulus believed the bad guys in all his stories were muggles, and then the war had come, and he had realized it wasn't the muggles, it was him and the madman he had decided to follow. 

Harry worked his nails into the bedspread and then carefully smoothed it out. He felt better. He always did after coming here.

He lifted his chin as he heard the stairs groan, turning as Draco poked his head inside the small room and spotted Harry. He looked more tired than he had before. Because of Harry.

“Your mad house elf said you might be up here,” Draco said.

Harry took a deep breath, ignoring how it shook, “I'm sorry for what I said. I _never_ should have said that.”

Draco nodded once, circling around the bed and sitting beside Harry on the small bed, the springs creaking softly in the silence.

Harry pulled his hands onto his lap. They looked strange against Draco's fine trousers, out of place, like they didn't belong. Harry did his best to banish the thought. It was a thought from the Dursley's who always made him feel like he didn't belong; the strange tan-skinned boy with wild black hair amidst their charade of a perfect English family. 

Draco ran his own hands down his thighs, driving all the wrinkles and ripple out the dark material. It was a nervous habit, Harry knew now. He wasn't certain Draco was even aware of how often he straightened and brushed his clothing.

“Hand,” Draco turned his left hand over. He gestured impatiently when Harry didn't understand, “Give me your hand.”

Harry slid his right hand over and Draco shifted his fingers to thread them together with Harry's and held them loosely. 

“Why this room?” Draco asked.

Harry watched as Draco's thumb brushed over his. “It doesn't have any memories.”

Draco nodded and asked, “Whose was it? Your godfather was a Gryffindor, wasn't he?”

“Regulus, Sirius' younger brother,” Harry said quietly, “He died in the first war.”

Draco's grip tightened but not painfully. Harry looked up. Draco gaze stayed locked on their linked hands. He pursed lips absently, his eyes flicking over to Harry and then back down, “I still don't know what I'm doing.”

Harry smiled faintly, “This seems pretty good.”

“Seems?” Draco raised his eyebrows.

Harry's smile grew, “I suppose it's a little late to admit I don't know what I'm doing either?”

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched up in a lopsided smile. “Traitor,” he murmured.

Harry leaned over and bumped Draco's shoulder with his own. “Is your mum still here?”

“She sent me to find you,” He sighed, “Mother wants to speak with you so she's likely still in the drawing room.”

Harry took a deep breath and stood up. Draco followed his lead, keeping hold of Harry's hand as they left the room, carefully closing the door behind them and heading downstairs. 

  



	18. Chapter 18

Narcissa was standing in front of the Black tapestry, her hands curled around a steaming cup of tea. She turned when they stepped inside. Harry felt Draco's hand twitch but he didn't let go. 

“There you are, James. I hope you're doing well?” Narcissa asked. 

Draco squeezed his hand, hissing under his breath “Did you tell her-”

Harry shook his head.

Narcissa swept over to the table and set her cup down, “He knew exactly how I took my tea and something I said when only you and a small black cat were present. And, Of course-” a small smile quirked on her mouth, “-there is the resemblance. That's why you picked James, isn't it, Draco? You couldn't call him Harry,” She was well and truly teasing Draco now, her eyes shining with amusement, “I am afraid even I wouldn't have been able to resist if you had. And Pansy-”

“Would have been intolerable,” Draco finished, looking resigned.

Harry's brow furrowed, a confuse smile creeping onto his face, “So... you knew my middle name was James and you-?”

“Of course he knows, Draco was qui-”

“Mother!” Draco cut her off hurriedly, his cheeks flushing pink, “Please stop, for the love of magic!”

“Fine,” Narcissa relented. She patted Draco's arm as she walked past him and inserted herself between the two of them, taking Harry's arm and guiding him over toward the tapestry, “Do you know much about blood magic, James?”

“A little,” Harry conceded, “it's classified as a dark magic, isn't it?”

Narcissa sighed, “Thanks to those fools in the Wizgamot who are too stupid to know the difference between binding blood, enhancing blood and black blood magics. Blood magic is as diverse and as potentially useful, or dangerous, as any other magic.

She paused and gestured broadly to the tapestry, “Grimmauld Place is tied to the blood of the Black family. Without it, the house is essentially dead. That is why your magic has almost no effect here.”

Harry frowned, “But the Blacks aren't all dead. Draco couldn't get his magic to work any better than I could.”

Narcissa patted his arm, “A blood binding ritual has to be performed to connect the house with the family. I recall one being performed when my cousins came of age, they delayed a year in order for both Sirius and Regulus to perform the ritual at the same time.”

“Is the bond dual or one way?” Draco asked.

Harry glanced back at him curiously.

“One way,” Narcissa said. She patiently explained to Harry, “If the house was to be destroyed nothing would happen to those bound to it. You can affect the house, the house cannot affect you.”

“Oh,” Harry said, “So, binding to the house would make it so I can actually change things in Grimmauld?”

Narcissa released his arm and went back to the table. She tapped her wand to the top of her head and her bun came undone, her hair falling loose around her face. She flicked her wand, once on either side of her face, drawing the front hair back and tying it back in a neat casual style. “It's not just that. If you can bind with Grimmauld Place, no other will be able to touch you here. The house itself would eject any that might try to harm you. You'll have greater control over the wards and should be able to change them at will.”

“If,” Harry repeated, leaning over the back of the couch, “because I'm not a Black.”

“But you are a Potter,” Narcissa said, picking up her cup and leaning back into the chair, crossing her ankles in front of her.

Harry's brow furrowed.

Draco grabbed Harry's shoulder and pulled him around, pointing out to the tapestry and two names, Charus Potter and Dorea Black married back in the forties. 

Behind them Narcissa said, “A great grandfather or uncle. The wizard community is quite small after all. There is a lot of intermarriage amongst the pureblood houses.”

Harry stared at Charus Potter, a shivery little thrill of hope going down his spine. 

An uneven shuffle announced Kreacher, a large book balanced on his hand, “I has found what you requested Miss Cissy,” He floated the book to the table, all the tea things obediently sliding to the side as the book came to rest.

“Thank you, Kreacher, that will be all for now,” Narcissa gave him a kind smile that made the old elf's ears curl happily. 

He bowed low, “Please feel free to call Kreacher if you need anything else,” he said and shuffled through the door. 

Narcissa leaned forward, carefully easing the book open, the leather covers were so old they looked black, the parchment was yellowed on the edges. “Please cease your hovering and take a seat.” She flicked her wand at the tea service, the pot lifting and filling two cups.

Harry did as she said, sitting on the couch and dropping three sugars in his cup. Draco sat beside him and fixed his own tea. A silence settled over the room only briefly interrupted by the turning of pages.

Both Harry and Draco looked up when Narcissa went still, her hands smoothed over the parchment and a pleased little smile crept onto her face. “The ritual appears to be fairly simple...” she mused. The silence stretched on as she read further. Her brow furrowed slightly and she stood, sliding the book to their side of the table, “It's a simple ritual but quite draining. That is why it's performed with pairs, to balance the strain, as the house links to your magic energy.” She hesitated and went on, “I was rather hoping that you would allow Draco to connect to Grimmauld Place as well.”

“Mother?” Draco's eyebrows rose.

“It would be a place you would always be safe,” she said quietly and then went on as if she hadn't spoken, “The most significant problem is James' fainter connection to the Black bloodline, even if he can complete the binding it will take longer and Draco would take the strain of the entire ritual until the house recognizes him. It would be far better to do the binding with four rather than two.”

Harry bit his lip as the two blond heads bent over the book. He took a deep breath and hazarded, “What about you and Andromeda then?”

Narcissa went still as a stone.

“I know you haven't spoken to her since she got married....” Harry trailed off.

Narcissa took a step back, clasping her hands together in front of herself. She answered slowly and with extreme care reminding Harry distinctly of Draco, “I have considered reaching out to her... however I have some trepidation about how she might react.” Her hands squeezed and she looked down at them with a nervous expression that made her look like a young girl. 

Harry glanced over at Draco who seemed as shocked as he was by his mother's sudden show of vulnerability.

“I could ask,” Harry offered, “I have lunch with her and Teddy nearly every week.”

Narcissa looked up, “You would do that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry shrugged with an easy smile, “It's the least I can do. I could even go now. It's still early enough.”

Narcissa smiled with amusement, “That's very bold of you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry nudged him with his elbow.

“Perhaps, we could share a meal here? If Andy were amenable?” Narcissa suggested, her eyes shining with growing excitement, “I would have food brought from the Manor, of course.”

“That's very bold of you,” Harry said cheekily and stood before she could change her mind, “I'll just pop down to the floo and see if she's in.” He hurried down the stairs, heart pounding as he tossed a handful of floo powder into the entry hall fireplace stuck his head in the flames. Andromeda was surprised to see him but not opposed to him coming over, so Harry stepped through. 

“Harry!” Teddy rocketed into Harry's legs as soon as he arrived, his hair turning black.

Harry plucked the ecstatic toddler up, giving him a toss in the air before settling him on his hip, “Wotcher, Ted.”

“This is quite unusual, Harry. Is something wrong?” Andromeda asked, her long hair pulled back from her face much the same way Narcissa's was, the streaks of white showing starkly in her black hair.

“Not wrong, per say,” Harry said, “You know how I told you Draco Malfoy is staying with me.”

Andromeda raised an eyebrow, “A bit more than just staying with you.”

Harry laughed, “Yeah. Well, Narcissa came over for tea-”

Andromeda remained remarkably calm as Harry told her everything Narcissa had told him about Grimmauld place and wanting to reconnect with her.

Teddy grabbed at Harry's collar, pulling until the button came undone. Encouraged by such progress, he took a firmer grip, trying to force the next button to slip loose. 

“Narcissa wants to see me?” Andromeda asked quietly as if not quite believing it, suspicion colouring her tone.

Harry nodded, prying Teddy's hands off his shirt, “Come on, Ted, let go.”

Teddy frowned up at him, “Come play with me?” he asked, tugging Harry's shirt in a downward direction.

“Not right now,” Harry said regretfully. “We could all have dinner at Grimmauld Place and just talk?” He told Andromeda hopefully.

Andromeda sighed in resignation, “Well, you've done so much more Teddy and I. At the very least, I would very much like to help with the binding ritual.” She smiled faintly, “I'm interested to see what you might make of Grimmauld Place.”

Harry filled a bag of toys and supplies Teddy might need while Andromeda went and changed into more formal robes in dark blue. He slung the bag over his shoulder and carried Teddy through the floo first.

Draco was pacing in front of the fireplace and Harry shifted Teddy from his hip to Draco's before he could do anything but hurriedly hold onto the three-year-old. Teddy and Draco stared at each other in pure bewilderment.

“Draco, this is Teddy.” Harry said, “Teddy, this is your cousin Draco.”

“Cousin?” Teddy looked at Draco with a lot more interest, his hair turning white blond.

Draco's eyes widened, “He's a metamorphmagus?”

Harry nodded. Behind them, the flames turned green again and Andromeda stepped out, clearing the ash off her robes with an easy grace.

Draco bowed his head to her nervously.

“You must be Draco,” Andromeda said, “I'm sorry we haven't met till now. Harry has spoken well of you.” She held out her hand.

Draco carefully shifted Teddy's weight to hold him with one hand and shook Andromeda's with the other, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Andromeda was about to say something more when Narcissa came out of the sitting room at such a rush she had to hold up the front of her robes to make sure she wouldn't trip.

“Andy,” Narcissa stepped forward, hesitant and hopeful, emotions flitting across her face like flighty birds. “I'm sorry.” She pressed her mouth into a thin line, blinking back a sheen of tears. Her voice came out small and sounded twenty years young, “You were always so brave. I wish I could have been as brave as you.”

Andromeda blinked and softened all at once, letting out a sigh that seemed to sweep an invisible weight off her shoulders, “Oh, Cissy.”

Narcissa flew across the last few steps, catching her sister up in a hug that left Andromeda shocked and speechless. When they finally stepped apart they both looking teary and awkward but hopeful. 

It was Narcissa that suggested they all sit in the ground floor drawing room which had been set up with tea and Draco's biscuits. Teddy was introduced to Narcissa and Draco but couldn't quite grasp the familial connection. Their conversations split as Narcissa and Andromeda spoke quietly together about the past and their losses and mistakes. Meanwhile, Harry and Draco were tasked with distracting Teddy after he had his single allowed sweet. 

It was fairly obvious Draco had never really had to play with a kid before but they both seemed fairly fascinated with one another. By the time dinner came around they seemed to be getting on splendidly. 

After dinner they all went up to the tapestry and spent what seemed like ages going over the steps for the binding ritual. Any reservations Harry might have had about trusting the old blood magic was put to rest after Andromeda read them over without any concern.

It was also Andromeda who said Teddy should stay and watch, “It's a part of his history and heritage,” she said calmly, settling him in a chair that had been turned toward the tapestry, “and when he's old enough, he'll perform the ritual as well. Once you and Draco have children to share the burden, of course.”

Draco appeared to have stopped breathing.

“Wha-?” Harry said faintly.

Andromeda and Narcissa shared an amused look.

“Not necessarily together,” Narcissa said, her eyes crinkling in the corners with amusement, “Although, I would not be opposed.”

“Mm,” Andromeda echoed, “They're quite a lovely pair.”

“Very fond of one another,” Narcissa said.

Draco's cheeks were bright red with embarrassment. He pressed his hand over his eyes, “Mother, please.”

Harry's own face felt hot and he looked pleadingly at Andromeda. He felt almost entirely certain that the two women only stopped because they had to do the ritual before the night was out.

Both house elves were in attendance, Mipsy to keep Teddy out of trouble and Kreacher to watch. He was already an ecstatic blubbering mess by the time they got into position to start. 

Each of them stood at a corner of the massive Black family tapestry, Harry and Draco reaching up to the top corners, Narcissa and Andromeda kneeling on the floor for the bottom corners. Narcissa had written the words of ritual in the air in shining silver script that hung in the air over Teddy's chair who watched them with wide eyes, torn between wonder and uncertain fear.

“Ready?” Narcissa asked once more before they began, waiting until they had all called an affirmative. “Then let us begin.” She took a deep breath, “I begin this ritual in the name of house and blood, Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black.” She drew the tip of her wand over her palm, a bloom of blood following in the wake of the tip, and press it over the corner of the tapestry. 

Andromeda was next, then Draco and finally, as the youngest, Harry.

Kneeling primly at the bottom comer of the tapestry below him, Andromeda gave him an encouraging nod.

“I enter this ritual in the name of house, inheritance, and blood, Harry James Potter.” He only winced a little as he made the cut and pressed his palm against the coarse old tapestry. He felt a hum of magic energy that seemed to come from the very walls and reach all around them, sending a tingling buzz through his hand and his feet.

He licked his lips, pressing the tip of his wand to the back of his hand and began reciting the words of the ritual, “ _A_ _b incunabulis ad astra, familia supra omnia, e_ _x unitate vires._ ” 

The other's voices joined his, falling into sync and together repeating the words over and over until the connection was made. Harry could feel when Narcissa and Andromeda completed the joining, the strain on their voices fading, they repeated the spell in support of Harry and Draco. The house creaked around them and the lamps on the walls noticeably brightened.

Harry could feel the magic in the tapestry now, felt it stirring and growing as if Narcissa and Andromeda had become threads within the weaving. The floor shivered, Harry could feel a third thread join as Draco's magic took root. Harry closed his eyes, focusing on the words, “  _ Ab incunabulis ad astra- _ ” Every time he said it and every time he felt nothing, Harry grew a little more desperate, a pool of dread building in his gut, “- _ familia supra omnia _ -” until every word he said aloud was punctuated by an internal pleading _. _

“ - _ex unitate vires-_ ” Please let this work, “- _Ab incunabulis ad astra-_ ” Please let me have this, “ _familia supra omnia-_ ” Let me belong. 

He nearly sobbed with relief when he felt a tug start in his palm and spread through him like a wave that wove him into Grimmauld Place as he finished one last time, “- _ ex unitate vires. _ ”

“I now leave this ritual,  _ finite _ ,” Narcissa said quietly and stepped back. Andromeda and Draco followed her lead until Harry was left.

“Nearly there,” Andromeda said quietly.

Harry took a deep breath and said the words that would make him the head of the house, “ _ Ad astra per aspera, adsum _ .” He felt an incredible pressure settle upon his mind so much so that he almost couldn't speak and had to force the words through gritted teeth in a hiss, “ _ Ad astra per aspera, adsum! _ ” and each time he said it the pressure seemed to grow. Harry's vision swam, he had to lean forward against the wall until his forehead pressed against the tapestry and sweat joined his blood and terrible determination. And just as Harry was certain he was going to break, the pressure filled him, pressing into every inch of his mind, from his fingertips to his toes. For a single brief second he could feel every spell of the wards, all the magic poured into the house's wood and stones, every room and corner, every inch that made up Grimmauld Place, and then it was gone and Harry was left gasping, exhausted and feeling faint. He opened his mouth to finish, the words leaving his mouth in a whisper, “I now complete this ritual.  _ Finite _ .”

He let his legs give out, but instead of crumpling to the floor, Harry felt strong hands catch him and pull him back up.

“Look,” Draco said softly, his breath warm on Harry's ear.

The tapestry was moving, growing more vibrant as threads within it moved and shifted. The tree was growing, spreading out branches, changing. As they watched, the portraits of Andromeda and Sirius rewove themselves, though the black ash remained on the surface. Andromeda's branch of the family sprouted and grew, adding her husband and Tonks, Tonk's marriage to Lupin and finally Teddy's small portrait. 

Off of Sirius' branch, a thin vine extended to connect to another small branch growing down from the middle of the tree, Charus Potter and Dorea Black had three children, the youngest, a son, married and had a son name Fleamont Potter who had James and finally- Harry, who also connected to Sirius through inheritance. 

Draco pointed his wand at the tapestry and cast a gentle cleaning spell at it, removing the dust and ash in a blink. The colours were bright, the leaves on the tree moved as if a gentle wind was blowing. Harry let Draco lead him back to the couch and pulled Draco down to sit beside him. Andromeda conjured him a glass and filled it with water cold enough to make his teeth ache. Teddy worriedly climbed into Harry's lap and he gave the little boy a tired hug.

“I had been hoping Sirius leaving the house to you would have made that a bit easier.” Narcissa said, sitting in a chair and looking paler than normal, sweat making her hair cling to her temples. “But, I suppose it all worked out in the end.”

Mipsy moved Teddy's chair back to the table and Andromeda sat in it with weary carelessness.

“Can Mipsy be getting anything for you?” Mipsy asked wringing her hands as she looked them over worriedly. 

“Ice cream.”

They all looked at Andromeda.

She looked over at her sister with a small smile, “Ice cream?”

Narcissa mouth slowly pulled up to echo the smile and they both broke into giggles at some shared inside joke.

Draco sighed and slumped down until he could rest his head against Harry's shoulder.

“Ice cream!” Teddy crowed optimistically and clapped his hands, his hair turning bright blue to echo his favorite flavour. 

“Mipsy,” Narcissa said, “be a dear and get some ice cream from the freezers back home.”

Mipsy disappeared with a crack, only to reappear second later with five small containers of  Fortescue's ice cream which they all ate far too much of and it grew so late that even an ice cream laden Teddy grew sleepy.

“I need to get him home,” Andromeda said, pushing herself up. She told Narcissa, “Make sure you owl me, Cissy. We have a great deal of catching up to do.”

“I will,” Narcissa assured her, standing up and hugging Andromeda again. This time she hugged back easily and when they stepped away from one another they both smiled.

“I should-” Harry started to get up but Draco put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him back against the couch.

“You shall  _ not _ ,” he said firmly. Draco gathered the drowsy Teddy up in his arms and stood, “I shall see you down to the floo, Aunt Andromeda.”

Andromeda gave him a smile and took his arm letting him lead her downstairs.

Narcissa didn't follow them back down but sat back down in her chair. Her hair had pulled loose and locks of it wafted around her face. “I suspected from the first owl Draco sent me that you were the cat,” she said softly, leaning back and letting her eyes close, “and I was concerned about your intentions but the way he acts around you...” she smiled faintly, “it reminded me so much of Lucius back when he was still courting me, before the wars changed him. He was so sweet.” Her smile slowly faded and she opened her eyes with a sigh.

Harry pushed himself up, not sure what he should say or if he should say anything at all.

“I have told Lucius he's not to meddle in Draco's life anymore,” Narcissa went on, her brow furrowing slightly.

Harry picked up on the uncertainty in her voice and asked, “Do you think Lucius might still-?”

“He wouldn't,” Narcissa said slowly, every word picked with care, “but Lucius can be weak when it comes to power. Lancaster Greengrass has still been visiting with a regularity I would not expect if Lucius had truly canceled the plans for the marriage contract.” she pressed her lips together, “I will do what I can. You- Take care of Draco won't you?”

Harry nodded mutely.

Narcissa rose with surprising grace for how tired she looked, and within moments of standing Draco reentered the room and she crossed the floor to him. “We must do this again next week,” she said with a smile and brief hug that Draco almost didn't have time to reciprocate, “I shall have the elves look for that book you wanted and send it along come morning.”

“There's no rush-”

“Nonsense.” Narcissa said shortly, patting his arm, “It's high time we made amends with the Weasley family and I am only too happy to do anything to help. I'll see myself out.” She slipped past him and down the hallway before either of them could protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have zero knowledge about latin so the spell is made up of a hodgepodge of phrases that sort of hopefully work out to: Ab incunabulis ad astra- From the cradle to the stars. familia supra omnia- Family over everything. ex unitate vires- unity is strength. Ad astra per aspera- to the stars through difficulties. Adsum- I am here.  
> In the end it probably doesn't matter too much since the spells from the books don't always make a whole lot of sense but yeah, I tried.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are very much appreciated. I'd love the feedback! Thank you ever so much for reading!


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